GNORANCE 


L  I  B  R.ARY 

OF   THE 

UN  IVER5ITY 

or    ILLINOIS 


8Z3 

DS55v 

V.2. 


A    VALIANT    IGNORANCE 


A 

VALIANT  IGNORANCE 


^  No\)d 


BY 

MAEY     ANGELA     DICKENS 

AUTHOR   OK    "cross   CURRENTS,"    "A   MERE   CYPHER,"    ETC. 


"  Thy  gold  is  brass  !  " 

Prince  Hohenstiel  Schwanuau 


m   THREE    VOLUMES 
VOL.    11. 


MACMILLAN    &     CO. 
AND   NEW  YORK 

1894 


A  VALIANT   IGNORANCE 


CHAPTER  I 

The  oppressive  autumn  weather  continued  for 
the  next  week  and  more,  but  the  atmosphere 
in  the  house  at  Chelsea  gradually  cleared ;  at 
least,  the  electrical  disturbances  which  had,  as 
a  matter  of  fact,  culminated  in  Julian's  de- 
parture for  the  club,  subsided.  As  the  days 
went  on,  Julian  gradually  recovered  his  spirits. 
His  temper,  which  had  given  way  so  suddenly 
and  completely  under  the  strain  put  upon  it 
by  the  unprecedented  thwarting  to  which  he 
had  been  subjected,  recovered  its  careless 
easiness.  The  injured  expression  of  moodiness 
disappeared  wholly  from  his  face,  and  his 
manner  resumed  its  buoyancy. 

Nevertheless,  the  life  of  the  present  autumn 
was  by  no  means  the  life  of  the  past  spring. 
Partly,  of  course,  the  different  framework  was 
responsible ;  life,  especially  at  this  particular 

VOL.  II  B 


2  A  VALIANT   lONORANC.'E 

moment,  when  winter  society  was  as  yet  hardly 
formed,  consisted  by   no   means   wholly  of  a 
social    existence.     It   was,  in    fact,   distinctly 
*'  slack  "  and  heavy  on  social  lines  as  compared 
with  the  high  pressure  of  the  season  ;  and  the 
introduction  into  the  routine  of  life  of  a  certain 
number  of  hours  of  reofular  work   on   Julian's 
part — the  first  practical  acknowledgement  in 
the  house  in  Queen  Anne  Street,  that  work  had 
anything  to  do   with   life — could   not  fail   to 
alter  the  tone  to  some  extent.     But  there  was 
a  subtle  change  in  Julian  himself,  which  was 
hardly  to  be  accounted  for  on  such  broad  lines. 
He  had  recovered  his  normal  mental  tempera- 
ture, indeed,  but  the  interval  of  disturbance 
seemed  to  have  had  some  indefinable  effect  upon 
him.     He  had  recovered  himself — but  it  was 
himself  with  a  difference.     It  was  almost  im- 
possible to  narrow  the  difference  into  words. 
To  say  that  he  was  colder  to  his   mother,  or 
that   he    stood    deliberately  aloof    from   her, 
would  not  have  been  true.     But  there  was  a 
touch  of  independence  about  his  whole  per- 
sonality which   was  new  to  it ;  a  certain  sug- 
gestion of  a  separate  life  and  separate  interests, 
such  as  must  inevitably  come  to  a  man  sooner 


A  VALIANT   IGNORANCE  3 

or  later,  which  seemed  to  tinge  his  intercourse 
with  her — superficially  the  same  as  it  remained 
— with  something  of  carelessness,  and  even  a 
hint  of  unconscious  patronage. 

If  the  change  was  felt  by  Mrs.  Romayne, 
she  made  no  sign ;  or,  at  least,  entered  no 
protest.  After  the  little  explanation  which 
had  taken  place  in  the  railway  carriage  she 
had  utterly  ignored  the  cloud  which  his  moodi- 
ness had  created  ;  and  she  ignored  its  passing 
away.  When  Julian  was  at  home  she  was 
always  bright  and  pleasant ;  always  charmed 
to  have  him  with  her  ;  always  ready  to  let 
him  go.  Her  little  jokes  at  his  expense  in  his 
new  character  of  a  worker  were  full  of  tact. 
Her  playful  allusions  to  her  own  solitary  days 
were  always  light  and  gay.  Nevertheless,  the 
characteristics  which  the  ten  weeks  of  their 
absence  from  town  had  brought  to  her  face 
grew  and  intensified  during  the  ten  days  that 
followed  their  return.  Her  eyes  grew  more 
restless,  her  mouth  more  sensitive,  as  thouofh 
the  strained,  sharpened  look  of  anxiety  which 
haunted  her  face  during  the  hour  which 
preceded  Julian's  return,  and  during  the  whole 
evening,  w^hen,  as  happened  several  times  in 


4  A  VALIANT  IGNORANCE 

the  course  of  that  ten  dcays,  he  diued  out, 
went  deep  enough  to  leave  lasting  tokens  of 
its  presence.  Her  questions  as  to  his  work, 
and  the  new  friends,  the  new  haunts,  con- 
sequent upon  it,  seemed  to  come  from  her 
lips — far  less  self-confident  in  expression  in 
these  days — almost  in  spite  of  herself.  They 
were  always  uttered  with  a  playfulness  which 
hardly  masked  a  slight  nervousness  underneath; 
a  nervousness  which  seemed  to  be  a  reminis- 
cence of  that  first  evening. 

She  was  sitting  alone  in  her  drawing-room 
one  afternoon  towards  the  end  of  the  second 
week  of  their  return  ;  she  had  a  book  in  her 
hand,  and  a  tea-table  before  her.  But  she 
had  neither  poured  herself  out  any  tea,  nor 
could  she  be  said  to  be  reading.  Every  two 
or  three  minutes  her  attention  seemed  to 
wander ;  her  eyes  would  stray  vaguely  about 
the  room,  and  she  would  rise  and  move  rest- 
lessly across  it,  to  give  some  wholly  un- 
necessary touch  to  a  drapery  or  a  glass  of 
flowers.  Once  she  had  seated  herself  at  her 
writing-table  to  begin  a  trivial  note  ;  but  the 
impulse  had  failed  to  carry  her  through,  and 
she  had  returned  to  her  chair  and  her  book. 


A  VALIANT   IGNORANCE  5 

It  was  half-past  four,  and  she  was  expecting 
Julian.  He  had  dined  out  on  three  conse- 
cutive niorhts,  and  was  doino;  so  again  to-night. 
And  in  reply  to  her  laughing  protest  against 
''  never  seeing  him,"  he  had  promised  carelessly 
to  come  home  and  have  afternoon  tea  with 
her. 

The  door-bell  rang  at  last,  and  as  the 
drawing-room  door  opened  she  lifted  a  smiling 
face  with  a  gaily  approving  comment  on  his 
punctuality. 

"  Good  boy  ! "  she  began.  Then  she 
broke  off  and  laughed  lightly,  though  tUe 
brightness  of  her  face  suddenly  ceased  to  be 
genuine. 

The  figure  on  the  threshold  was  that  of 
Marston  Loring. 

**  Thank  you,"  he  said;  "I  am  glad  you 
think  so  ! " 

"The  observation  was  not  intended  for 
you,  I'm  sorry  to  tell  you,"  returned  Mrs- 
Romayne,  as  she  rose  to  receive  him.  "  And 
I'm  afraid  even  if  I  applied  it  to  you,  you 
would  hardly  condescend  to  accept  it.  How 
do  you  do  ?  When  did  you  come  back  ? 
Sit  down  and  let  me  give  you  some  tea." 


6  A  VALIANT   KiNORANCE 

Loring  sat  down  accordingly,  with  a  mute 
^vitDess  in  his  manner  of  doing  so  to  a  certain 
amount  of  intimacy  both  with  the  room  and 
its  mistress ;  but  that  touch  of  admiring 
deference  which  had  marked  his  demeanour 
during  the  early  stages  of  his  acquaintance 
with  Mrs.  Komayne,  was  still  present  with 
him,  and  was  rendered  only  the  more  effective 
by  the  familiarity  with  which  it  was  now- 
combined. 

"  Thanks,"  he  said  ;  "a  cup  of  tea  is  a 
capital  idea.  But  I  don't  think  it's  quite 
kind  of  you  to  say  that  I  wouldn't  con- 
descend to  the  epithet,  '  Good  boy.'  I  should 
like  to  have  it  applied  to  me  of  all  things. 
It  would  be  such  a  novelty,  and  so  wholly  un- 
deserved !  " 

He  spoke  in  that  tone  of  sardonic  daring 
on  which  a  great  deal  of  his  social  reputation 
rested,  and  Mrs.  Romayne  answered  with  a 
laugh. 

"No  doubt  it  would,"  she  said,  with  that 
very  slight  and  unreal  assumption  of  reproof 
with  which  such  a  woman  invariably  treats 
the  tacit  confessions  of  a  man  of  Loring's 
reputation.       "  You    only   want    the    epithet. 


A  VALIANT   IGNORANCE  7 

then,  because  you  kaow  3^0 a  don't  deserve 
it." 

She  handed  him  the  tea  as  she  spoke  with 
a  shake  of  her  head,  and  added  : 

"  But  tell  me,  now,  when  did  you  come 
back,  and  where  have  you  been  ?  " 

"  Tve  been  to  the  Engadine,"  he  an- 
swered ;  ''  why,  I  don't  know,  unless  that 
for  six  weeks,  at  least,  of  my  life  I  might 
fully  appreciate  the  charms  of  London !  I 
don't  admire  glaciers  ;  snow  mountains  bore 
me  ;  altitudes  are  always  more  or  less  weari- 
some ;  and  society  au  nature!  is  not  to  be 
tolerated.  I  reached  town  the  day  before 
yesterday." 

Mars  ton  Loring  was  faultlessly  dressed. 
It  was  impossible  to  associate  his  attire  with 
anything  but  Piccadilly  and  the  best  clubs  and 
the  best  drawing-rooms.  His  face,  with  its 
half-cynical,  half- wearied  expression,  was,  in 
its  less  individual  characteristics,  one  of  the 
typical  faces  of  the  society  of  the  day.  His 
voice  and  manner,  well-bred,  callous,  and 
entirely  unenthusiastic,  were  the  voice  and 
manner  of  that  world  where  emotion  is  so 
entirely  out  of  fashion  that  its  existence  as  an 


8  A  VALIANT   KJNORANCE 

ineradicable  factor  of  healthy  human  nature  is 
hardly  acknowledged. 

His  presence  and  his  cynical,  cold-blooded 
talk  seemed  to  do  Mrs.  Romayne  good. 
Her  face  and  manner  hardened  slightly,  as 
though  her  nerves  were  braced,  and  some- 
thing of  the  pinched,  restless  look  of  anxiety 
faded. 

"  It's  very  nice  of  you  to  come  and  see  us 
so  soon  ! "  she  exclaimed  with  genuine  satis- 
faction. ''Town  has  really  been  abominably 
empty  these  last  ten  days.  I  suppose  we 
came  back  rather  too  soon,  but  it  seemed  time 
that  Julian  should  get  to  work.  Really,  I've 
hardly  seen  a  soul." 

"  It  is  a  deadly  time  of  year,"  assented 
Loring,  with  a  quick  look  at  her,  "but  Fm 
grateful  to  it  if  it  makes  my  presence 
welcome  to  you.  Of  course  I  called  at 
once.  I  w^as  rather  afraid  you  might  be 
still  away." 

"  We  came  back  ten  days  ago,"  answered 
Mrs.  Romayne,  accepting  and  putting  aside 
his  little  compliment  with  a  mocking  gesture, 
as  a  form  of  words  entirely  conventional. 
"  Julian    has   been    quite   lost   without   you. 


A  VALIANT  IGNORANCE  9 

He  is  looking  very  well,  I  think,  and  is 
working  amazingly." 

The  introduction  of  Julian's  name  into 
the  conversation  had  in  neither  case  come 
from  Julian's  friend ;  but  this  time  it  ap- 
peared to  strike  Loring  as  incumbent  upon 
him  to  pursue  the  topic. 

"The  approving  words  with  which  you 
received  me  were  intended  for  him,  I  sup- 
pose," he  said  carelessly.  *'  You're  expecting 
him  ?  " 

There  was  a  moment's  pause  while  Mrs. 
Eomayne  turned  her  head,  as  if  involuntarily, 
and  listened  intently ;  that  haunted  look 
coming  suddenly  back  into  her  eyes.  The 
moment  passed,  and  she  turned  to  Loring 
again  with  a  quick,  self-conscious  glance,  and 
an  unreal  laugh. 

"  I'm  expecting  him ;  yes,"  she  said. 
*'  I'm  ridiculous  enough  to  make  that  very 
obvious,  I'm  afraid !  I'm  so  glad  he  won't 
miss  you.  He  doesn't  generally  come  in  at 
this  hour.     This  is  a  treat — for  me  ! " 

She  laughed,  and  Loring  said  with  mock 
solemnity  of  interest : 

-  Indeed ! " 


10  A  VALIANT  IGNORANCE 

*'  I  really  had  to  be  quite  plaintive  this 
iporning,"  she  went  on  in  the  same  tone, 
"  on  the  subject  of  not  seeing  him  for  four 
days  except  at  breakfast  !  He  has  made  a 
good  many  new  acquaintances  already,  it 
seems,  and  has  to  dine  out  a  good  deal." 

**  Ecally  !"  commented  Loring.  His  tone 
was  quite  unmoved,  and  Mrs.  Romayne 
did  not  see  the  expression  in  his  shrewd, 
shallow  eyes*  as  she  spoke — an  expression  of 
amused  curiosity.  ''He  dines  at  his  club,  I 
suppose  ? "  he  enquired  indifferently  after  a 
moment. 

"Yes;  or  at  some  'other  fellow's'  club," 
laughed  his  mother.  "  Legal  institutions,  I 
suppose ! " 

There  was  a  brief  silence  ;  one  of  those 
silences  which  come  when  one  branch  of  a 
conversation  is  felt  to  be  exhausted ;  and 
then  Loring  finished  his  tea,  put  down  his 
cup,  and  settled  himself  into  a  comfortable 
attitude. 

*'I  forget  whether  you  were  taken  with 
the  Ibsen  craze  last  season,  Mrs.  Romayne  ?  " 
he  said.  "  We  shall  all  have  to  tie  wet 
towels    round   our   heads  —  it   won't    be    be- 


A  VALIANT   IGNORANCE  11 

coming,  I'm  afraid — and  give  ourselves  up 
to  solitary  meditation,  I  hear  !  He  is  to  be 
the  thing  this  winter,  they  tell  me." 

"  Ibsen  ? "  repeated  Mrs.  Romayne  re- 
flectively ;  obviously  searching  in  her  memory 
for  some  ideas  to  attach  to  the  name,  which 
she  was  as  obviously  conscious  of  having 
heard  before.  "  Ibsen  ?  Oh,  yes,"  with  a 
sudden  flash  of  inspiration,  "  oh,  yes,  of 
course ;  that  '  Dolls'  House  '  man,  that  every- 
body talked  of  going  to  see  just  at  the  end 
of  the  season." 

The  first  of  those  startling  pictures^  of 
human  nastiness  which  have  since  exercised 
criticism  to  so  great  an  extent,  and  which 
may  or  may  not  be  revelations,  had  taken 
a  wonderful  hold  upon  a  certain  section 
of  "society,"  and  had  become,  as  Mrs. 
Romayne's  words  implied,  almost  the  fashion 
in  the  preceding  June.  Society  is  always 
inclined  to  be  literary  and  intellectual,  or 
rather,  to  an  assumption  of  those  qualities, 
in  the  winter.  It  was  with  a  sense  of 
the  absolute  duty  of  priming  herself  before- 
hand that  Mrs.  Romayne  continued,  with 
every  appearance  of  the  deepest  interest : 


1^  A  VALIANT   IGXOKAXCE 

*'  Ah,  no  !  I'm  sorry  to  say  I  was  never 
able  to  spare  an  evening.  Everybody  told 
me  all  about  it,  though.  It  must  have  been 
awfully  clever  and  interesting.  But,  you 
see,  just  at  that  time  one  has  so  much  on 
hand !  There  was  that  dreadful  bazaar,  too. 
By-the-bye,  have  the  Pomeroys  come  back 
yet,  do  you  know,  Mr.  Loring  ?  " 

Mr.  Loring  believed  that  they  had  not, 
and  after  a  little  discussion  of  their  probable 
plans,  Mrs.  Eomayne  returned  to  the  subject 
of  Ibsen. 

^''  Are  they  going  to  bring  out  a  new 
play  of  his,  did  you  say  ? "  she  said  care- 
lessly. 

"So  I  hear,"  answered  Loring.  *'An 
extraordinary  piece  of  work,  with  a  tre- 
mendous theory  in  it,  of  course.  The  idea 
is  the  influence  of  heredity." 

Mrs.  Eomayne  started  slightly.  A  strange 
flash  leapt  up  in  her  eyes,  and  as  it  died 
out,  quenched  as  it  seemed  by  iron  resolution, 
it  left  a  curious  expression  on  her  face ;  it 
was  an  expression  in  which  a  light  scorn — 
the  normal  attitude  of  the  shallow,  fashion- 
able woman  towards  deep   questions  of  any 


A  VALIANT  IGNORANCE  13 

kind — seemed  to  be  battling  indomitably  for 
a  place  against  something  which  was  hardly 
to  be  held  at  bay,  by  no  means  to  be 
suppressed. 

*'  Heredity  !  "  she  said ;  and  the  ring  of 
her  voice  matched  the  expression  of  her 
face. 

"It's  rather  an  interesting  subject,"  con- 
tinued Loring  indolently.  Scientific  questions 
in  their  social  aspects  were  just  becoming 
fashionable.  "  It's  wonderful  how  long  we 
have  stopped  short  at  the  inheritance  of 
Eoman  noses,  and  violent  tempers,  and  plain 
facts  of  that  kind  without  getting  to  anything 
more  subtle." 

"Yes;  I  suppose  it  is,"  answered  Mrs. 
Komayne.  There  was  a  hard  restraint  in 
her  voice,  which  Loring  took  for  preoccu- 
pation and  laid  to  the  account  of  her 
expectation  of  Julian.  She  was  sitting  with 
her  back  to  the  light,  and  he  could  not  see 
the  expression  of  her  face. 

"  It's  awfully  consoling,  don't  you  know," 
he  went  on  in  the  same  tone,  "  to  feel  that 
one  can  lay  all  one's  little  failings  to  the 
account   of    some    dead    and    gone   ancestor, 


14  A  VALIANT   IGNORANCE 

with  a  scientific  mind.  I  don't  notice,  by- 
the-bye,  that  even  the  greatest  and  most 
enthusiastic  scientists  show  any  tendency  to 
refer  their  virtues  and  talents  back.  I 
presume  they  are  always  self-developed." 

Mrs.  Eomayne  laughed,  as  she  was 
obviously  intended  to  do  ;  but  her  laugh 
was  rather  harsh. 

"  Do  you  know,  I  think  scientific  men 
are  a  dreadful  race  ! "  she  said.  "  They 
think  that  they  know  so  much  better  than 
everybody  else,  and  that  what  they  know 
is  so  immensely  important.  As  a  rule,  you 
know,  it's  about  something  that  they  really 
can't  know  anything  about,  and  if  they 
could,  it  would  be  a  great  deal  better  not 
to  bother  about  it." 

She  spoke  with  a  confident,  conclusive 
superiority,  which  is  only  possible,  perhaps, 
in  that  section  of  society  to  which  knowledge 
and  brain-power  are  among  the  minor  and 
entirely  unimportant  factors  of  life — except 
when  the  knowledge  is  knowledge  of  the 
world,  and  the  brain-power  that  which  has 
adapted  itself  to  the  requirements  of  society. 
But  the  superiority  in  her  tone  rang  strained 


A  VALIANT   IGNORANCE  15 

and  false.  She  seemed  to  be  forcing  the 
attitude  on  herself  even  more  than  on  Loring ; 
and  there  was  a  faint  ring  of  defiance  in 
her  voice — utterly  inconsistent  and  incom- 
patible with  the  words  she  spoke.  The 
combination  was  curiously  suggestive  of  that 
consuming  fear  which  denies  the  very  exis- 
tence of  that  by  which  it  is  created. 

Loring,  however,  was  too  fully  occupied 
with  a  cynical  appreciation  of  the  humorous 
aspect  of  the  wholesale  condemnation  of 
learning  by  crass  ignorance  to  detect  anything 
beneath  the  surface.  An  enigmatical  smile 
touched  his  lips. 

*'  There's  a  great  deal  of  penetration  in 
what  you  say,"  he  said.  "  Of  course,  there 
would  be  I  But  I  think  you're  a  little 
sweeping,  perhaps,  when  you  say  that  they 
don't  really  know  anything.  Take  heredity, 
for  instance  ;  it's  an  actual  fact,  capable  of 
demonstration,  that " 

But  Loring's  eloquence  was  broken  short 
oflf.  At  that  moment  the  door  opened,  and 
Julian  Romayne  came  into  the  room. 

Mrs.  Romayne  started  to  her  feet  at  the 
sight  of  him  with  a  strange,  hardly  articulate 


16  A  VALIANT  IGNORANCE 

sound,  which  was  almost  a  gasp  of  relief, 
though  it  passed  unnoticed  by  either  of  the 
two  men,  as  Julian  advanced  (juickly  to 
Loring. 

"  How  are  you,  old  man  ? "  he  said 
pleasantly.  ''Awfully  glad  to  see  you  back 
again." 

"  This  is  the  reward  of  merit,  you  see !  " 
said  Mrs.  Romayne,  as  Loring  replied,  in  the 
same  tone.  "You  come  home  to  tea  with 
your  mother,  and  you  find  a  friend !  Will 
you  have  some  tea,  sir  ?  " 

Her  face  \vas  still  a  little  odd,  and 
unusual-looking,  especially  about  the  eyes ; 
and  the  touch  which  she  laid  upon  Julian, 
as  if  to  enforce  her  w^ords,  w^as  strangely 
clinging  and  nervous  in  its  quick  pressure. 

The  talk  drifted  in  all  sorts  of  directions 
after  that ;  all  more  or  less  personal,  either 
to  the  speakers,  or  to  mutual  acquaintances. 
As  the  moments  passed,  Loring's  eyes  were 
fixed  once  or  twice,  wdth  momentary  intent- 
ness,  on  the  younger  man.  That  new  touch 
of  independence  about  Julian  did  not  be- 
long only  to  his  manner  with  his  mother. 
It  was  just   perceptible    towards   the    friend 


A  VALIANT   IGNORANCE  17 

whom  he  had  hitherto  admired  with  boyish 
enthusiasm. 

Loring  rose  to  go  at  last,  and  as  he  did 
so  he  turned  to  Julian. 

*'  If  it  were  not  that  I  don't  like  to 
propose  your  deserting  Mrs.  Komayne,"  he 
said,  **  I  should  ask  you  if  you  wouldn't 
come  and  keep  me  company  over  a  lonely 
dinner  at  the  club,  Julian  ?  I  suppose  you 
don't  want  to  get  rid  of  him,  by  any 
chance  ? "  he  continued,  turning  to  Mrs. 
Eomayne. 

Mrs,  Eomayne  and  Julian  laughed 
simultaneously ;  Julian  with  a  little  touch 
of  embarrassment. 

**  I'm  sure  my  mother  has  no  objection  to 
getting  rid  of  me/'  said  Julian  rather  hastily ; 
**  but,  unfortunately,  I'm  engaged." 

"  Engaged  !  "  said  Loring.  '*  Lucky  fellow, 
to  have  engagements  at  this  time  of  year  ! " 

His  tone  was  a  little  satirical,  and  Julian, 
who  was  following  him  out  of  the  room, 
flushed  slightly.  His  colour  was  still  con- 
siderably deeper  than  usual  when  he  dashed 
upstairs  after  seeing  Loring  out,  and  put  his 
head  in  at  the  drawing-room  door. 

VOL.  II  c 


18  A  VALIANT   IGNORANCP: 

"  Vm  afraid  I  must  be  off  directly,  dear," 
he  said  carelessly.  "  I  was  awfully  sorry 
to  get  in  so  late,  but  Allardyce  wanted  me." 

An  hour  later,  Julian  was  dining  at  a 
restaurant,  dining  simply,  and  dining  alone. 
Having  finished  his  dinner,  and  smoked  a 
cio"arctte,  glancinor  once  or  twice  at  his  watch 
as  he  did  so,  he  took  his  hat  and  coat  and 
strolled  out.  It  was  nearly  a  quarter  past 
eight,  and  the  only  light  was,  of  course, 
the  light  of  the  street-lamps  and  the  gas  in 
the  shop  windows. 

He  passed  along  Piccadilly,  not  quickly, 
but  with  the  deliberate  intention  of  a  man 
who  has  a  definite  destination,  until  he  came 
to  a  certain  side-street.  Then  he  turned  out 
of  Piccadilly,  and  slackening  his  steps, 
sauntered  slowly  up  on  the  right-hand  pave- 
ment. He  had  walked  up  to  the  end  of  the 
street,  casting  sundry  glances  back  over  his 
shoulder  as  he  did  so,  and  was  turning  once 
more,  as  though  to  saunter  down  the  street 
again,  when  the  figure  of  a  w^oman  entered 
at  the  Piccadilly  end.  As  soon  as  he  saw 
her,  Julian  threw  away  his  cigar,  and 
quickening  his  steps,  went  to  meet  her. 


A  VALIANT   IGNOEANCE  19 

The  face  she  raised  to  his  was  the  face 
of  the  girl  on  whose  behalf  he  had  interfered 
in  Piccadilly  ten  days  before,  and  her  first 
words  were  uttered  in  the  soft,  musical  voice 
that  had  thanked  him  then. 

"  Have  you  been  waiting  ? "  she  said ; 
'^  I'm  sorry." 

The  tone  of  the  few  words  with  which  he 
answered,  together  with  the  expression  with 
which  he  looked  at  her,  showed  as  clearly 
as  volumes  of  explanation  could  have  done 
where  and  how  the  new  Julian  was  being 
developed. 

"Only  a  minute  or  two,"  he  said.  "A 
lonely  fellow  like  me  doesn't  mind  waiting  a 
few  minutes  for  the  chance  of  a  talk,  as  I've 
told  you  before." 

She  looked  up  at  him  with  simple,  pitying 
eyes,  and  a  certain  wistfulness  of  expression, 
too. 

"  It  seems  so  sad !  "  she  said  softly.  **  But 
you'll  make  friends  in  London  soon,  I'm 
sure.  Have  you  been  working  very  hard 
to-day  ? " 

**Have  you  been  working  very  hard,  is 
the    more    important     question  ? "    he    said, 

c  2 


20  A  VALIANT   IGXOllANCE 

turning  his  eyes  away  from  those  candid 
brown  ones,  with,  to  do  him  justice,  a  certain 
passing  shame  in  his  own.  "  I'm  afraid 
there's  no  need  to  ask  that !  You  look 
awfully  tired,  Clemence  !  " 

She  shook  her  head  with  a  pretty,  brisk 
movement  of  reassurance. 

'*  Oh,  no!"  she  said,  "it's  not  been  at 
all  a  hard  day.  It  never  seems  hard,  you 
know,  when  we  don't  have  to  stay  late, 
unless  something  goes  wrong  in  the  work- 
room ;  and  I  don't  think  that  happens  very 
often." 

There  was  a  simple,  genuine  content  in 
the  tone  and  manner  in  which  the  words 
were  spoken,  which,  taken  in  conjunction 
with  the  colourlessness  of  the  face,  the  tired 
look  about  the  eyes,  and  the  poor,  worn 
dress,  told  a  wonderful  little  story  of  patience 
and  serenity  of  spirit. 

All  that  Julian  Romayne  knew  of 
Clemence  Brymer — the  brief  and  very  simple 
outline  of  her  life  as  she  had  told  it  to 
him — was  comprised  in  a  few  by  no  means 
uncommon  facts.  She  was  a'*  hand"  in  one 
of  the  big  millinery  establishments,  and  had 


A  VALIANT  IGNORANCE  21 

worked  at  the  same  place  for  the  last  two 
years.  Before  that  time  she  had  lived  from 
her  childhood  first  with  a  married  brother, 
and  then,  when  he  died,  with  his  widow 
and  children.  From  a  certain  touch  of 
reserve  in  her  manner  of  speaking  of  those 
particular  years,  Julian  had  gathered  that 
they  had  been  hard  ones.  The  marriage  of 
the  brother's  widow,  and  her  departure  to 
Australia,  had  left  Clemence  alone  in  London. 
Her  parents,  she  told  Julian,  had  come  from 
Cambridgeshire ;  and  one  of  her  faint  re- 
collections of  her  father,  who  had  died  when 
she  was  only  five  years  old,  was  of  sitting 
on  his  knee  in  their  little  attic  room  in 
London,  and  being  told  by  him  about  his 
country  home.  Her  mother  had  died  when 
she  was  a  baby ;  and  all  her  scanty  recollec- 
tions seemed  to  centre  round  the  father,  who, 
as  she  said  simply,  had  been  *'  a  very  good 
man." 

The  simple  trust  and  confidence  in  her 
face  as  she  raised  it  to  Julian  now  was  a 
curious  contrast  to  the  nervous,  half-frightened 
uncertainty  of  her  glance  at  him  on  that 
night   in   the   spring  when  they  had   shared 


22  A  VALIANT   IGNORANCE 

for  those  two  or  three  minutes  the  shelter 
of  the  same  portico.  But  paradoxical  as  it 
seems  at  first,  both  expressions  were  the 
outcome,  on  different  lines,  of  the  same 
moral  characteristic.  Cleraence,  though  there 
was  that  about  her — as  her  face  testified — 
which  kept  her,  in  all  unconsciousness  and 
innocence,  strangely  aloof  and  apart  from 
her  world,  had  not  spent  her  life  in  London 
without  learnino^  to  know  its  dangers.  But 
the  very  purity  which  made  the  glances 
which  she  was  forced  to  encounter  in  the 
streets  at  night  a  distress  to  her ;  which 
made  the  very  proximity  of  an  unknown 
"  gentleman "  an  uneasiness  to  her ;  which 
made  theoretical  evil,  in  short,  a  terror  to 
her ;  rendered  her  singularly  incapable  of 
recognising  its  existence  on  any  but  the 
baldest  lines.  Her  confidence  was  quickl}^ 
won  because,  though  she  was  conscious  of  a 
world  of  evil  about  her,  it  was  as  a  some- 
thing large,  and  black,  and  obvious  that 
she  regarded  it.  Brouo^ht  into  contact  with 
herself,  anything  fair-seeming  was  touched 
by  the  whiteness  of  her  own  temperament ; 
and,   with    such   unconscious  extraneous  aid, 


A  VALIANT   IGNORANCE  23 

the  thinnest  veil  was  enough  to  hide  from 
her  anything  behind.  Her  confidence  once 
won,  might  be  destroyed,  but  could  hardly 
be  shaken.  Something  in  Julian's  face  and 
manner  had  won  it  for  him,  and  the  outline 
of  his  circumstances  which  he  had  given  her 
had  won  him  something  else — her  pity. 

Exactly  by  what  motive  he  had  been 
actuated  in  his  statements  to  her,  Julian 
would  have  found  it  rather  hard  to  say ;  as 
a  matter  of  fact  he  never  asked  himself  the 
question.  Before  the  end  of  their  first  walk 
together  he  had  presented  himself  to  her 
as  a  medical  student  living  entirely  alone  iu 
London,  having  no  female  friends,  or  even 
acquaintances,  and  wearying  often  of  the 
rough  masculine  companionship  of  his  fellows. 
On  these  grounds  he  had  asked  her  when  they 
parted  at  the  end  of  a  little  poverty-stricken 
street  near  the  farther  end  of  the  Hammer- 
smith Koad,  whether  he  might  meet  her  now 
and  again  and  walk  home  with  her.  She  had 
hesitated  for  an  instant,  and  then  had  assented, 
very  simply. 

"You  haven't  had  to  work  late  for  four 
nights  now,"  she  said,   as  they  turned  their 


24  A  VALIANT   IGNORANCE 

backs  upon  Piccadilly  and  began  to  walk 
steadily  in  the  opposite  direction.  "  Shall 
you  have  to  to  -  morrow  night,  do  you 
think?" 

She  lifted  her  eyes  to  his  face  as  she 
spoke,  and  as  he  looked  down  and  met  them 
it  would  have  been  clear  to  an  onlooker 
what  was  the  charm  that  those  long  evening 
walks  possessed-  for  Julian.  In  the  girl's 
clear  eyes  there  was  admiration  and  absolute 
reliance.  In  the  look  with  which  he  answered 
them  there  was  conscious  superiority  and 
protection. 

Just  at  the  moment  when  he  was  sore 
and  smarting  with  a  sense  of  humiliation  and 
futility ;  when  in  his  newly-aroused  angry 
discontent  .  all  intercourse  with  women  of 
his  own  class  had  become  a  farce  and  an 
inanity  to  him  ;  accident  had  thrown  it  into 
his  power  to  create  for  himself,  as  it  were, 
a  world  in  which  all  that  had  suddenly 
revealed  itself  as  lacking  in  his  actual  life 
should  be  lavished  upon  him.  For  his 
acquaintance  of  Piccadilly  he  had  absolutely 
no  surroundings,  except  such  as  he  chose  to 
give     himself.       The     Julian     Eomayne     of 


A  VALIANT   IGNORANCE  25 

society,  the  nonentity,  the  "figure-head,"  as 
he  had  muttered  angrily  to  himself,  had  no 
existence  for  her.  It  was  Julians  own 
private  Juliau,  a  personality  developed  side 
by  side  with  the  sudden  and  violent  re- 
adjustment of  his  conception  of  his  relations 
with  the  world,  who  was  looked  up  to,  listened 
to,  respected,  and  deferred  to  during  the  hour  s 
walk  which  lay  between  that  side-street  out 
of  Piccadilly  and  a  certain  little  street 
out  of  the  Hammersmith  Road.  A  vague, 
undefined  craving  for  pre  -  eminence  and 
admiration  had  risen  in  him  with  his 
realisation  of  his  dependence,  and  the  fe- 
flected  nature  of  the  light  with  which  he 
shone  in  society.  To  a  weak  nature  in  which 
that  craving  has  once  stirred  it  matters  little 
by  what  means  it  is  met,  so  that  it  is  to 
some  extent  satisfied. 

The  walk  of  to-night  was  a  repetition  of 
the  walks  that  had  preceded  it;  the  talk 
a  little  more  intimate  and  a  little  more 
personal  in  tone  than  any  of  its  predeces- 
sors, as  that  of  each  of  the  latter  in  its  turn 
had  been. 

In  the  course  of  the  day  something  had 


26  A  VALIANT   IGNORANCE 

occurred  to  remind  Clemence  of  her  father 
and  her  fathers  old  home,  and  in  intervals 
of  Julian's  talk  about  himself,  she  told  him 
a  good  deal  about  her  thoughts  of  that 
little  country  place ;  of  how  there  had  been 
Brymers  here  for  generations  and  generations. 

"  You  must  have  been  Puritans  once," 
said  Julian,  laughing,  as  he  often  laughed, 
at  some  little  grave  turn  of  her  speech  as 
he  looked  into  the  sweet,  serious  face.  Work- 
girl  as  she  was,  she  seemed  to  have  acquired 
neither  the  talk  nor  the  voice  of  her  kind.  The 
simple  form  of  her  words,  her  accent,  and  her 
gentle  voice,  seemed  to  belong  to  a  past,  quiet 
and  full  of  a  modest  dignity  of  which  the 
London  of  the  nineteenth  century  hardly 
knows.  *'You  would  have  made  an  awfully 
jolly  little  Puritan,  Clemence  !  " 

"  I  don't  know,"  she  said  simply ;  *'  I 
was  so  little  when  father  died.  But  he 
felt  it  dreadfully,  I've  heard,  when  he 
came  to  London ;  it  nearly  broke  his 
heart." 

'*  Why  did  he  do  it,  then?  "said  Julian 
lightly. 

"  He    thought    he    ought,"   returned    the 


A  VALIANT   IGNORANCE  27 

girl.  "  You  see,  there  was  nothing  to  do  at 
Feldbourne  —  nothing  but  ploughing,  and 
country  things,  you  know.  And  father  thought 
a  man  ought  to  do  something — that  every- 
thing was  meant  to  go  on  and  get  better,  you 
know — and  that  every  man  ought  to  help, 
ought  to  work.  So,  of  course,  he  was  obliged 
to  come,  you  see." 

They  had  come  to  the  end  of  the  road 
now,  where  they  always  said  good  night, 
and  as  she  spoke  she  was  standing  still, 
looking  simply  into  his  face.  He  looked  at 
her  for  a  moment  with  something  in  his  eyes 
which  seemed  to  be  struggling  vaguely  into 
life  side  by  side  with  the  careless  mockery  of 
his  "  set." 

*'  He  was  obliged  to  come,  because  he 
thought  he  ought,"  he  said.  "  Do  you  always 
do  what  you  think  you  ought,  Clemence  ?  " 

"I  try,"  she  said  simply.  "Every  one 
tries,  I  suppose." 

He  laughed — the  laugh  that  was  so  like 
his  mother's — but  not  quite  so  freely  as  usual, 
and  held  out  his  hand. 

"  I  don't  know  about  that,"  he  said.  *'  Good 
night,  Clemence." 


28  A  VALIANT   IGNORANCE 

"  Good  night,"  she  said. 

He  hesitated  a  moment.  He  never  went 
to  meet  her  without  a  firm  and  definite  in- 
tention of  sealing  their  parting  with  a  kiss. 
But  he  had  never  done  so  yet,  and  he  did  not 
do  it  now. 

''Good  night,"  he  said  again,  rather 
lamely ;  and  then  they  parted,  she  going 
quickly  and  quietly  down  the  street,  he 
passing  out  of  it  into  the  noise  and  bustle  of 
the  Hammersmith  Eoad. 

Once  there,  he  paused  as  though  unde- 
cided. 

'*  It's  too  early  to  go  home,"  he  said  to 
himself  '*  I'll  go  down  to  the  club  for  a 
bit." 

There  were  a  good  many  men  in  the  club- 
room  when  he  entered  it  half  an  hour  later — 
and  Julian — quite  another  young  man  to  the 
Julian  who  had  walked  to  the  Hammersmith 
Road — was  discussing  the  latest  society  topic 
with  much  animation  over  a  whisky  and 
seltzer,  when  Loring,  to  whom  he  had  nodded 
at  the  other  end  of  the  room,  strolled  up 
to  him,  cigar  in  hand. 

"  Dinner  been  a  failure  ? "  he  enquired. 


A  VALIANT   IGNORANCE  29 

There  was  nothing  particular  about  the 
words ;  and  the  tone  in  which  they  were 
uttered  was  singularly,  almost  significantly, 
devoid  of  expression.  But  there  was  a  keen, 
satirical  expression  in  his  eyes  as  he  fixed  them 
on  Julian. 

Julian  started  slightly  at  the  words,  and  a 
curious  flash  of  expression  passed  across  his 
face. 

'^More  or  less,"  he  said,  with  a  care- 
less frankness  that  seemed  just  a  trifle 
excessive. 

"  Who  was  the  man  ? " 

'*  I  don't  think  you  know  him,"  said 
Julian,  his  carelessness  bordering  on  defiance. 

Loring  smiled.  His  smile  was  never  par- 
ticularly pleasant,  and  at  this  moment  it  was 
unusually  cynical. 

"  I  know  a  good  many  men,  too,"  he 
observed. 


CHAPTER  II 

The  slight  alteration  in  Julian  of  which 
Marston  Loring  was  conscious,  and  a  subtly 
evinced  consequence  of  that  alteration  — 
namely,  that  intimacjT-  with  the  son  no  longer 
involved  of  necessity  even  an  introduction, 
far  less  intimacy,  at  the  mother's  house — had 
no  effect  whatever  upon  Loring's  relation  with 
Mrs.  Eomayne,  unless,  indeed,  it  might  be 
said  to  emphasize  his  position  as  friend  of  the 
house.  During  the  three  weeks  which  followed 
immediately  upon  his  first  call  after  his  return 
to  town,  he  saw  at  least  as  much  of  ]\Irs. 
Romayne  as  he  had  done  in  the  course  of  any 
previous  three  weeks  since  Julian's  first  intro- 
duction of  him  ;  though  the  young  man  was 
no  longer  an  obvious  and  tangible  link  between 
them.  He  dined  in  Queen  Anne  Street  a  few 
days   after   his   return,    but   except   on   that 


A  VALIANT  IGNORANCE  31 

occasion  it  chanced  that  he  hardly  ever  met 
Mrs.  Eomayne  and  Julian  together.  He  met 
the  latter  often  enough  at  one  or  other  of  the 
clubs,  or  about  town.  On  the  former  he 
called,  as  in  duty  bound,  after  the  dinner,  and 
again  and  yet  again  at  short  intervals.  She 
had  consulted  him  about  a  purchase  of  old  oak, 
with  which  she  wished  to  surprise  Julian,  and 
the  purchase  seemed  to  necessitate  in  his  eyes 
frequent  consultation.  He  also  happened  to 
meet  her  once  or  twice  when  she  herself  was 
paying  calls. 

She  was  always,  apparently,  pleased  to  see 
him.  More  pronounced,  perhaps,  when  sfie 
met  him  among  other  people  than  when  she 
received  him  alone,  but  still  always  more  or 
less  present,  there  was  a  certain  eager,  un- 
conscious assertion  of  something  like  intimacy 
with  him  about  her  manner.  Marston  Loring 
was  quick  to  observe  the  new  note,  and  he 
prided  himself  likewise  on  the  caution  with 
which  he  refused  to  allow  it  even  the  value  he 
believed  it  to  possess.  He  caught  her  quick 
recognition  of  his  presence  ;  her  tendency  to 
draw  him  always  into  the  conversation  in 
which  she  happened  to  be  engaged  ;  the  tacit 


32  A  VALIANT   IGNORANCE 

assumption  of  mutual  interests  and  under- 
standing lurking  in  her  voice  ;  and  he  sifted 
and  dismissed  these  things,  cynically,  as 
probably  meaningless.  But  astute  as  he  was, 
he  never  thought  of  them  in  connection  with 
the  constant  references  to  Julian  ;  the  questions 
as  to  Julian's  doings ;  with  which  her  conver- 
sations with  him  were  full.  Of  these  latter  he 
took  hardly  any  account  —  except  for  an 
occasional  sardonic  smile.  Clever  as  he  thought 
himself,  there  were  vast  tracts  of  human  nature 
to  which  he  had  no  clue,  in  the  very  existence 
of  which  he  disbelieved ;  consequently,  it  was 
not  surprising  that  he  should  now  and  then 
mistake  cause  for  effect. 

At  about  noon  on  a  bright,  cold  October 
day  he  got  out  of  a  hansom  at  twenty-two. 
Queen  Anne  Street,  with  a  certain  cynical 
expectancy  on  his  face.  The  weeks  which  had 
passed  since  Mrs.  Romayne  and  Julian  re- 
turned to  town  on  that  close  September  day 
had  brought  on  winter,  and  had  settled  winter 
society  fairly  into  its  grooves  ;  and  on  the 
previous  evening  Marston  Loring  and  Mrs. 
Romayne  had  met  at  a  dinner-party.  Mrs. 
Romayne  had  been  alone.     To  enquiries  made 


A  VALIANT   IGNOrvAXCE  33 

for  her  son,  and  regrets  at  bis  absence,  slie 
had  replied,  with  a  gaiety  which  became 
absolutely  feverish  as  the  evening  wore  on, 
that  he  was  unfortunately  engaged.  Through- 
out the  evenino^,  as  thoug^h  some  kind  of  strain 
were  acting  upon  her  self-control,  all  the  cha- 
racteristics of  her  demeanour  towards  Loring 
had  been  slightly  exaggerated.  Loring  had  de- 
tected, before  he  had  exchanored  two  sentences 
with  her,  that  she  was  not  herself ;  that  she 
was  unstrung  and  nervous ;  and  arguing  on 
totally  false  premises  he  had  come  to  a  totally 
false  conclusion.  She  had  pressed  him  rest- 
lessly about  the  commission  he  was  doing  for 
her,  and  he  had  twisted  it  this  morning  into 
an  excuse  for  coming  to  see  her  when  he  knew 
she  would  be  at  home. 

''It  is  an  unheard-of  hour,  I  know,"  he 
said,  as  she  rose  to  receive  him  with  an 
exclamation  of  surprise.  "  But  I  want  a 
little  more  detail,  and  one  or  two  measure- 
ments, before  I  can  execute  your  orders 
satisfactorily." 

He  had  seen  before  she  spoke  that  the 
weakness  of  the  night  before,  from  what- 
ever cause  it  had  arisen,   had  passed  away  ; 

VOL.  II  D 


34  A  VALIANT  IGNORANCE 

the  lines  about  her  face  were  set  into  a 
determined,  uncompromising  cheerfulness,  and 
her  voice  as  she  spoke  conveyed  the  same 
impression. 

*'  It  is  more  than  kind  of  you,  and  I  am 
very  glad  to  see  you,"  she  said.  "  I'm  always 
glad  to  see  Julian's  friend,  you  know."  The 
last  words  with  a  laugh.  "You  don't 
happen  to  have  met  him  this  morning,  I 
suppose  ? " 

Loring  signified,  without  a  hint  of  sarcasm, 
that  it  was  more  common  not  to  meet  the 
man  one  would  wish  to  meet  in  the  Temple 
than  to  meet  him,  and  Mrs.  Komayne  laughed 
again. 

"I  know,"  she  said.  *' But  one  gets  an 
absurd  impression  that  men  doing  the  same 
thing  in  the  same  place  must  be  always 
coming  across  one  another.  It's  very  ridicu- 
lous, of  course.  You  and  he  have  always 
had  a  knack  of  finding  one  another  out, 
though.  I  suppose  you  are  quite  one  another's 
greatest  chums,  aren't  you  ?  Is  '  chum '  still 
the  word,  by-the-bye  ?  " 

*^I  believe  so,"  returned  Loring  carelessly. 
"  Yes,"  he  continued  in  a  different  tone,  *'  I 


A  VALIANT   IGNORANCE  35 

don't  know  when  I've  taken  to  any  one   as  I 
took  to  Julian." 

There  was  a  little  gesture,  half-mocking, 
half  involuntary,  which  accepted  the  words  as 
a  personal  compliment,  and  Mrs.  Komayne 
said  with  a  smile  : 

''You  are  a  curious  pair  of  friends,  too, 
are  you  not  ?  Julian  " — her  voice  in  uttering 
the  name  seemed  to  have  acquired  a  new 
tenderness  in  the  past  month,  and  lingered 
over  it  now,  evidently  unconsciously  and 
involuntarily — "Julian  is  such  a  boy,  and 
you  are — a  great  deal  older  than  you  ought 
to  be." 

She  shook  her  head  at  him  with  a  reprov- 
ing laugh,  and  he  answered  in  his  most  blase 
manner  : 

"I'm  a  man  of  the  world,  you  see.  I 
knew  it  all  through  and  through  before 
Julian  had  left  school.  I  hope  you  wouldn't 
have  preferred  another  boy  for  his  '  chum ' !  " 

There  was  a  daring  and  a  challeuge  in 
his  tone  which  made  the  question  personal 
rather  to  himself  than  to  Julian  ;  but  Mrs. 
Eomayne  took  it  from  the  other  point  of 
view. 

D    2 


36  A  VALIANT   1(4N0RANCE 

"  Quite  the  contrary  !  "  she  said  quickly. 
"Another  boy  would  not  have  been  at  all  the 
thing  for  him.  I  am  delighted  to  think  that 
his  mentor  is  a  wise  one.  I  rely  on  you,  Mr. 
Loring,  do  you  know  !  " 

She  stopped  abruptly.  The  last  words, 
uttered  suddenly  and  involuntarily,  had  seemed 
curioilisly  charged  with  a  meaning  which  could 
not  get  itself  expressed.  She  paused  an  instant 
and  then,  half  as  though  she  wished  to  laugh 
some  impression  away,  half  as  though  she 
wished  the  words  to  have  significance,  she 
added  : 

*'  You'll  remember  that,  won't  you  ?  Shall 
we  go  down  and  see  about  the  fittings  ?  " 

She  rose  as  she  spoke  and  led  the  way 
down  to  Julian's  room.  The  room  w^as  already 
as  perfect  as  might  be.  Only  a  great  restless- 
ness, an  irrepressible  and  incessant  impulse  to 
give  pleasure  to  its  occupant,  could  have 
dictated  further  improvements  ;  and  as  Mrs. 
Komayne  talked  and  explained,  the  same 
restless  instinct  of  service  expressed  itself  in 
sundry  little  involuntary  touches  to  trifles 
about  the  room — about  Julian's  chair  and  his 
writing-table. 


A  VALIANT   IGNORANCE  37 

The  door-bell  raag  at  length,  and  her  face, 
over  which  that  new  and  weaker  expression 
had  stolen,  hardened  suddenly. 

"  I'm  afraid  I  must  send  you  away  now  !  " 
she  said,  turning  to  Loring.  **  Fve  made  an 
appointment  for  this  morning  to  get  through 
some  botherincj  business.  You  understand 
now  just  what  I  want,  though,  don't  you  ? " 

*'  I  think  so !  "  answered  Loring  reflec- 
tively. It  would  have  been  strange  indeed 
if  he  had  not  understood  by  this  time.  **  But 
I'm  sorry  I  must  go  ! " 

"  I'm  sorry  too  ! "  said  Mrs.  Komayne 
lightly.  "  I  hate  business,  and  it  loses  none 
of  its  solemnity,  I  can  assure  you,  when  it  is 
transacted  by  my  connexion,  Dennis  Falconer. 
He  is  my  trustee,  you  know  ! " 

Loring  smiled.  He  did  not  detect  any- 
thing behind  her  words,  and  it  struck  him 
always  as  perfectly  natural  that  Mrs.  Romayne 
and  her  *'  connexion "  should  be  somewhat 
antagonistic.  ''  I  should  imagine  he  would 
be  a  rather  ponderous  man  of  business !  "  he 
said. 

The  parlour-maid  entered  at  this  moment 
to  announce  that  Mr.  Dennis  Falconer  was  in 


38  A  VALIANT   IGNORANCE 

the  drawing-room,  and  as  they  left  the  room 
Mrs.  Romayne  turned  again  to  Loring. 

"To  tell  you  the  truth  I  find  him  rather 
ponderous  at  all  times!"  she  said  with  a 
laugh.  "  Didn't  you  say  once  that  altitudes 
were  oppressive  ?  Well,  I  must  go  and  be 
oppressed  !  " 

She  held  out  her  hand  as  she  spoke,  and 
then  paused. 

'*  Oh,  by  -  the  -  bye,"  she  said,  ''  Julian 
wants  you  to  come  and  dine  one  day  next 
week — only  he's  so  much  engaged.  Which 
day  will  suit  you  ? " 

**  Thanks  !  "  answered  Loring.  "  I  shall 
be  charmed  !  "  His  face  was  quite  impassive 
as  he  spoke,  but  he  was  wondering  nevertheless 
whether  Julian  had  as  yet  heard  of  the  in- 
vitation. From  what  he  had  observed  lately, 
he  fancied  that  Julian  had  reasons  of  his  ow^n 
for  avoiding  home  engagements.  "  I  am 
engaged  on  Tuesday  and  Thursday,"  he 
continued,  "  but  on  any  other  day  I  shall  be 
delighted.  Did  Julian  have  a  successful 
evening  yesterday  ?  " 

Mrs.  Romayne  had  explained  to  him  on 
the   previous    night    with    forced   merriment 


A  VALIANT   IGNORANCE  39 

that  her  son  was   *'  dining  with  a  fellow,  he 
says  ! " 

*'  Yes,  I  think  so  !  "  she  answered  lightly, 
*'  I  don't  know  which  *  fellow '  it  was,  you 
know.     Well,  then,  I  will  send  you  a  note." 

They  had  moved  out  into  the  hall  as  they 
talked,  and  now  as  she  paused  at  the  foot 
of  the  stairs  he  shook  hands  again,  and  went 
out  of  the  house  as  she  turned  and  went  up  to 
the  drawing  -  room.  Dennis  Falconer  was 
standing  waiting  by  the  fire. 

''  Most  punctual  of  men  !  "  she  said  airily 
as  they  shook  hands.     '^  How  do  you  do  ? " 

Dennis  Falconer  had  by  this  time  had 
five  months  of  inaction  and  ill-health,  and 
the  fact  that  he  was  heartily  weary  of  both  by 
no  means  served  to  soften  the  natural  ten- 
dency of  his  manner  towards  reserve  and 
severity.  In  settling  down  to  London  life 
for  the  winter,  too,  the  fact  that  he  was  no 
longer  a  new  lion  gave  an  added  tinge  of 
monotony  to  existence  for  him,  honestly 
unconscious  as  he  was  of  this  truth.  The 
days  went  very  heavily  with  him ;  he  was 
conscious  of  having  come  to  a  dreary  bit  of 
his   life's  journey,    and   he   endured    it   con- 


40  A  VALIANT   IGNORANCE 

scientiously  —  if  with  rather  self-conscious 
self-respect.  An  added  gravity  and  silence 
seemed  to  him  under  the  circumstances  by  no 
means  to  be  deprecated. 

Under  these  circumstances  the  contrast 
between  him  and  Mrs.  Romayne  as  they 
exchanged  the  trivialities  of  the  situation  was 
inexpressible,  and  it  was  not  surprising  that 
they  touched  almost  instantly  upon  the 
business  which  was  the  cause  of  their  inter- 
view. It  was  not  a  long  affair ;  it  turned 
upon  Mrs.  Romayne's  desire  to  have  rather 
more  ready  money  at  her  command ;  and 
Dennis  Falconer,  having  explained  the  situa- 
tion to  her;  having  stated  his  views,  evidently 
conscientiously  compelled  thereto  ;  and  having 
entered  a  formal  protest  against  her  in- 
structions ;  returned  to  his  pocket  the  note- 
book to  which  he  had  been  referring  as  if  to 
emphasize  the  close  of  the  matter.  Then  he 
paused. 

Mrs.  Romayne  had  drawn  a  quick,  slight 
breath  of  relief  at  his  action,  but  the  breath 
seemed  to  suspend  itself  for  an  instant  on  this 
pause,  and  the  eyes  with  which  she  watched 
his  were  very  bright  and  intent. 


A  VALIANT   IGNORANCE  41 

''As  your  only  near  relative,"  lie  began 
with  formal  gravity,  *'  and  as  your  son's  only 
near  relative,  I  feel  myself  bound  to  take  this 
opportunity  of  approaching  a  subject  which 
has  been  in  my  thoughts  for  some  time.  Any 
man  of  ordinary  knowledge  and  experience  of 
the  world,  having  regard  only  to  the  most 
ordinary  circumstances,  would  tell  you  that  so 
large  an  allowance  as  you  make  your  son  is 
not  an  advisable  thing  for  any  young  man." 

Mrs.  Romayne  had  listened  with  her 
expression  veiled  and  repressed  into  an  intent 
vigilance,  and  as  he  finished  a  dull  flush — 
which  was  none  the  less  hot  and  significant 
because  it  had  not  the  vivid  intensity  of  the 
angry  flush  of  youth — crept  into  her  face,  and 
her  eyes  glittered.  Her  tone  as  she  spoke 
witnessed  to  a  strong  self-control,  and  an 
intense  determination  not  to  abandon  her 
position  or  to  lessen  by  one  jot  the  distance 
she  had  set  between  them. 

"  I  am  sorry  you  think  so ! "  she  said 
carelessly. 

"  I  think  so,  emphatically,"  he  returned. 
"  I  should  think  so  for  any  young  man. 
For  William  Komayne's  son " 


42  A  VALIAXT   IGNORANCE 

Mrs.  Komayne  had  been  gathering  up 
some  papers  from  the  table  with  b'ght,  careless 
movements  ;  she  rose  now  rather  suddenly  but 
still  carelessly.  AVhat  seemed  to  him  almost 
shameful  callousness  quickened  Falconer  into 
what  he  thouo^ht  a  rio-hteous  disre^^ard  for  all 
conventionality. 

He  too  rose,  but  his  movement  w^as  no 
response  to  hers ;  rather  it  seemed  to  crush 
and  dominate  its  suggestion  of  easy  dismissal 
with  the  implacable  austerity  of  a  reality  not 
to  be  put  aside.  He  stood  looking  at  her, 
forcing  her,  by  the  suddenly  asserted  su- 
periority of  his  man's  determination  and 
mental  weight,  to  meet  his  grave,  condemning 
eyes. 

"  Does  your  son  know  what  his  father 
was  ? "  he  said  in  a  low,  stern  voice. 

He  had  forced  down  the  barrier,  he  had 
annihilated  the  distance,  and  she  faced  him 
with  glittering  eyes,  that  dull  flush  all  over 
her  face,  its  mask  gone. 

"  No  ! "  she  said,  and  from  her  hard, 
defiant  voice,  also,  all  artificiality  had  dropped 
away. 

**  He   knows   nothin2[   of  his  dano^er ;    he 


A  VALIANT   IGNORANCE  43 

has  no  safeguards,  and  he  has  money  at  his 
command  which  would  be  temptation  to  any 
young  man.     Think  what  you  are  doing  !  " 

For  a  couple  of  seconds  they  confronted 
one  another,  separated  by  no  conventionalities, 
man  and  woman,  with  the  common  memory 
of  a  common  horror  between  them,  holding 
them  together  in  spite  of  every  obstacle  which 
temperament  and  habit,  mental  and  moral, 
could  interpose. 

Then  with  a  tremendous  effort  the  woman's 
strength  reasserted  itself,  and  by  sheer  force  of 
her  w^ll  she  thrust  away  the  horrible  reality 
which  he  had  forced  upon  her.     She  laughed. 

'*  I  really  don't  know  what  we  are  talking 
about ! "  she  said.  "  I  am  sure  you  mean 
most  kindly  as  to  my  spoilt  boy's  allowance, 
but  we  won't  trouble  to  discuss  it !  So  good 
of  you  to  take  the  trouble  to  think  of  it — and 
so  unnecessary  I  " 

For  a  moment  Falconer  gazed  at  her 
almost  petrified  with  amazement  and  disgust. 
His  perceptive  and  imaginative  faculties  had 
not  developed  wuth  the  passing  of  years  ;  his 
mental  processes  were  slow ;  and  for  all  their 
ghastly  exaggeration  he  accepted  the  careless. 


44  A  VALIANT   IGNORANCE 

shallow  artificiality  of  her  tone  and  manner, 
and  the  smiling  unfeelingness  of  the  rebufif  she 
had  given  him,  exactly  as  they  aj^pcared  upon 
the  surface.  It  was  some  seconds,  even, 
before  he  thoroughly  realised  how  ruthlessly 
and  completely  she  had  imputed  to  him  all 
the  attributes  of  a  meddler ;  and  as  he  did  so 
an  added  distance  touched  the  uncompromising 
sternness  which  had  gradually  settled  down 
upon  his  face. 

"  I  beg  your  pardon  !  "  he  said,  and  the 
formal,  unmeaning  words  seemed,  in  their 
enforced  condescension  to  her  level,  to  carry 
with  them  a  lofty  condemnation  which  was 
even  contempt.  "  Good  day ! "  he  added 
stiffly  ;  and  then,  not  seeing,  apparently,  the 
hand  she  extended' to  him  with  a  hard,  smiling 
"  Good-bye,"  he  left  the  room. 

Mrs.  Romayne's  face  remained  curiously 
blanched-looking  all  the  afternoon,  as  though 
she  had  received  some  kind  of  shock.  She 
spent  the  afternoon  in  paying  calls,  and 
whenever  she  returned  alone  to  her  carriage 
there  crept  ])ack  into  her  eyes — bright  and 
eager  as  she  talked  and  laughed — a  certain 


A  VALIANT   IGNORANCE  45 

haunting  questioning,  not  to  be  driven  quite 
away  by  any  simulation  of  gaiety. 

As  her  afternoon's  work  drew  to  a  close, 
her  eyes  were  no  longer  quite  free  from  it,  even 
as  she  made  her  attractive  conversation,  and 
when  she  rose  to  bring  her  last  visit  to  an  end 
she  was  looking  very  tired.  She  was  just 
shakino^  hands  with  her  hostess  when  Mrs. 
Halse  was  announced. 

To  spare  herself  one  iota  of  what  she 
considered  her  social  duty — even  when  that 
duty  took  the  form  of  civility  to  a  woman  she 
disliked — was  not  Mrs.  Komayne's  way.  With 
exactly  the  exclamation  of  pleasure  and  sur- 
prise which  the  situation  demanded  she 
waited,  pleasantly  desirous  of  exchanging 
greetings  with  the  new-comer,  while  Mrs. 
Halse  bore  down  vociferously  upon  the  mistress 
of  the  house.  Mrs.  Halse  had  only  very 
recently  returned  to  town,  and  there  was  all 
the  excitement  of  novelty  about  her  ap- 
pearance. She  was  a  good  deal  louder  even 
than  usual,  partly  as  the  result  of  this  ex- 
citement, and  partly  as  the  result  of  absence 
from    town ;    and    she    had    also  grown   con- 


46  A  VALIANT  IGNOEANCE 

siderably  stouter.  Announcements  of  this 
fact,  lamentations,  and  explanations  mingled 
with  her  greetings  of  her  hostess,  and  were 
still  upon  her  lips  when  she  turned  to  Mrs. 
Komayne. 

"  Abominable,  isn't  it  ?  "  she  said,  pouring 
out  her  words  as  fast  as  they  would  come,  and 
without  waiting  for  any  answers.  ''  Such  a 
trial !  I  suppose  I  shall  have  to  go  in  for 
Turkish  baths  or  something  horrible  of  that 
sort.  And  how  is  everybody  ?  How  is  that 
wicked  young  man  of  yours,  Mrs.  Eomayne  ? 
I  heard  of  his  goings  on  at  the  Ponsonbys' ! 
By-the-bye,  do  tell  him  that  Hilda  Newton  is 
engaged  to  be  married.  So  good  for  him  I 
No  doubt  he  thinks  she  is  pining  away. 
A  very  good  match,  too — young  Compton  ; 
rich  and  good-looking ;  rather  a  fool,  but 
don't  tell  Master  Julian  that." 

Master  Julian's  mother  was  smiling  so 
charmingly  that  it  was  with  some  difficulty  that 
Mrs.  Halse,  who,  with  the  assistance  of  Miss 
Newton,  had  guessed  the  substance  of  the 
conversation  which  had  actually  taken  place 
between  the  mother  and  son  in  the  railway 
carriage  during  their  journey   from    Norfolk, 


A  VALIANT   IGNORANCE  47 

had  some  slight  difficulty  in  restraining  the 
ejaculation,  "  Cat !  " 

**  Eeally  !  "  was  the  suave  answer.  "  Miss 
Newton  is  really  engaged,  and  so  well.  So 
glad !  Such  a  charming  girl !  Yes,  I'll  tell 
Julian,  certainly.  His  heart  will  be  broken — 
temporarily.  Fortunately  his  fancies  are  as 
ephemeral  as  they  are  numerous.  Good-bye  ! 
So  glad  to  have  seen  you." 

She  pressed  Mrs.  Halse's  hand  cordially  as 
she  spoke,  and  pursued  her  graceful  way  to  the 
door. 

Julian  was  dining  out  again  that  night, 
and  her  lonely  evening  apparently  affected  his 
mother's  nerves.  At  any  rate,  Julian  received 
a  message  the  next  morning — a  Sunday — to 
the  effect  that  she  had  slept  badly  and  was 
resting,  but  would  see  him  at  lunch,  and  at 
lunch-time  accordingly  she  appeared. 

She  laughed  at  his  half-careless,  half- 
aflfectionate  enquiries,  calling  herself  quite 
rested  and  quite  well.  And  after  his  first 
enquiries  as  to  her  health,  Julian  relapsed  into 
rather  moody  silence — silence  with  which  his 
mother  had  apparently  nothing  to  do.  That 
tone  of  independence  which  had  come  to  him. 


48  A  VALIANT   IGNOEAXCE 

and  which  was  sometimes  hardly  perceptible, 
could  hardly  have  been  more  strongly 
evidenced  than  by  his  one  or  two  spasmodic 
efforts  to  pass  out  of  his  own  life — where 
something  was  evidently  not  to  his  liking — into 
the  life  they  shared. 

Such  a  state  of  things  is  always  more  or 
less  disturbing  to  the  mental  atmosphere ; 
more  or  less  according  to  the  sensitiveness  of 
the  person  upon  whom  it  acts ;  and  as  Mrs. 
Eomayne  sat  opposite  Julian  the  furtive 
glances  which  she  cast  at  his  moody,  pre- 
occupied face  became  more  and  more  anxious 
and  restless.  A  tentative,  uncertain  tone  in 
her  manner  of  dealing  with  him,  which  had 
developed  during  the  last  month,  increased 
moment  by  moment ;  and  her  voice  and  laugh 
as  she  chatted  to  him — ignoring  his  indifferent 
reception  of  her  little  bits  of  news — became 
moment  by  moment  more  forced  and  unreal. 
That  her  nerves  and  her  self-control  were  not 
so  reliable  as  they  had  once  been  was  evident 
in  the  fact  that  she  took  refuge — as  was  not 
unusual  with  her  in  these  days — in  painful 
exaggeration. 

Her  bright  little  flow  of  talk  stopped  at 


A  VALIANT   IGNORANCE  49 

last,  however  ;  and  Julian  making  no  attempt 
to  fill  the  gap,  there  was  total  silence.  It  was 
broken  again  by  Mrs.  Komayne,  and  she  was 
talking  now,  evidently,  for  talking's  sake,  as 
though  she  was  no  longer  capable  of  weighing 
her  words ;  but,  in  her  intense  desire  to  pene- 
trate the  vague  atmosphere  which  she  could 
not  challenge,  was  making  her  advances 
blindly. 

''I  met  Mrs.  Halse  yesterday,"  she 
began  gaily.  ''  Did  I  tell  you  ?  Fortunately 
I  only  encountered  her  for  a  few  moments, 
or  I  doubt  whether  I  should  be  alive  to  tell  the 
tale." 

She  paused,  and  Julian  smiled  absently. 
They  had  finished  lunch,  and  he  had  risen  and 
strolled  to  the  fire  with  a  cigarette,  and  he 
was  thinking  vaguely,  as  her  voice  broke  in 
upon  his  meditations  —  or  perhaps  rather 
feeling  than  thinking — that  his  mother  was 
rather  artificial.  All  society  women  were 
artificial,  he  had  thought  once  or  twice  lately ; 
and  the  word  was  acquiring  a  new  significance 
to  him. 

"  She  bestowed   an   immense    amount   of 
conversation  upon  me  in  the  course  of  those 

VOL.  II  E 


50  A  VALIANT   IGNORANC^E 

few  minutes ! "  continued  Mrs.  Romayne 
in  the  sprightly  tone  which  her  son  was 
beginning  to  hear  for  the  first  time  as  some- 
thing jarring.  ''Amongst  other  things  she 
told  me  a  little  piece  of  news  which  will 
interest  you." 

"  Yes  ? "  said  Julian  indifferently. 

A  fellow  didn  t  always  want  to  be  enter- 
tained, he  was  saying  to  himself  irritably  ; 
it  was  a  nuisance.  His  thoughts  had  wan- 
dered completely,  and  he  was  going  over  a' 
fruitless  hour  which  he  had  spent  alone 
walking  up  and  down  a  certain  side-street  off 
Piccadilly,  on  the  previous  evening — an  hour 
which  was  accountable  for  his  gloomy  humour 
this  mornins: — w^hen  he  became  aware  of  his 
mother's  voice  saying  with  insistent  gaiety  : 

"  Well,  sir,  aren't  you  broken-hearted  ?  " 

Julian  started  and  made  a  futile  effort  to 
realise  what  his  mother  had  said.  The 
necessity  for  the  effort  and  its  failure  proved 
by  no  means  soothing  to  him,  and  he  said 
rather  impatiently  : 

**  Tm  awfully  sorry,  mother,  but  I'm  afraid 
I  didn't  hear." 

"  He  didn't  hear  !  "  echoed  Mrs.  Romayne 


A  VALIANT   IGNORANCE  51 

in  mock  appeal  to  heaven  and  earth  to  witness 
the  fact.  She,  too,  had  made  an  effort  and  a 
failure,  and  the  result  with  her  was  to  increase 
her  nervous  recklessness.  "Five  weeks  ago 
he  was  ready  to  eat  his  poor  little  mother 
because  she  prevented  his  proposing  to  this 
young  woman,  and  now  when  I  tell  him 
she's  engaged  he  doesn't  even  hear !  Per- 
haps you've  forgotten  Hilda  Newton's  very 
existence,  my  lord  !     Who  is  her  successor  ?  " 

Julian  flushed  angrily,  and  his  good-looking 
face  took  a  sullen  expression. 

*'  She's  not  likely  to  have  a  successor, 
as  you  call  it,"  he  said.  "  A  fellow  doesn't 
care  to  have  that  kind  of  thing  happen  twice." 

His  mother  broke  into  a  thin,  nervous 
laugh. 

"  You  don't  mean  to  say  it  rankles  still !  " 
she  said  gaily.  "  Is  this  the  reason  of  your 
devotion  to  w^ork  and  '  fellows  '  ?  You  silly 
old  boy,  you  ought  to  be  thoroughly  glad  of 
your  escape  by  this  time  !  I  think  I  shall 
follow  Dennis  Falconer's  advice,  and  cut 
down  your  allowance  to  teach  you  reason. 
Shall  I  ? " 

The  jest,  dragged  in  as  it  was,  had  a  forced 

E    2 

iiftUVEfiSITY  OF  ILLINOIS 
LIBRARY 


52  A  VALIANT  IGNORANCE 

ring  about  it ;  perhaps  it  bore  all-unconscions 
testimony  to  the  oppressively  insistent  power 
of  that  haunting  questioning  of  yesterday. 
But  Julian,  knowing  nothing  of  this,  was 
simply  conscious  of  ever-increasing  irritation 
from  her  voice  and  manner. 

"  I  don't  see  what  business  my  allowance 
is  of  Dennis  Falconer's ! "  he  said  gruffly. 
And  then  side  by  side  with  his  growing  sense 
of  his  mother's  artificiality,  there  grew  in  him 
an  overmastering  desire  for  another  woman's 
presence — a  simple  presence,  to  which  social 
subtleties  and  affectation  were  unknown.  Why 
hadn't  Clemence  met  him  yesterday  evening  ? 
How  could  he  tell  when  he  would  see  her 
again  ?  To-morrow  he  could  not  meet  her. 
Then  his  reflections  paused,  as  it  were,  absorbed 
in  a  vague  sense  of  discomfort  and  discontent, 
until  a  fresh  thought  stole  across  them ;  a 
thought  which  presented  itself  by  no  means 
for  the  first  time  that  day. 

Why  should  he  not  go  and  see  her  this 
afternoon  ?  After  all,  why  should  he  not  ?  He 
never  had  done  such  a  thino^,  but — did  it  mean 
so  much  as  it  seemed  to  mean  ?  And  if  it  did  ? 
Why  not  ? 


A  VALIANT   IGNORANCE  53 

"  I  don't  see  either/'  liis  mother  said ; 
and  Julian  smiled  grimly  as  he  thought  how- 
little  she  knew  the  question  she  was  answering. 
"It's  our  business,  isn't  it?  And  it's  my 
private  business  to  find  you  a  nice  wife — Dot 
yours  at  all,  you  understand."  These  last 
words  with  a  laugh.  "  She  must  be  pretty,  I 
suppose — good  style  at  any  rate — and  she 
must  be  rich,  and  she  must  have  the  makings 
of  a  good  hostess  in  her.  Eeally,  I  think  I 
must  begin  to  look  her  out.  Don't  you 
think " 

Julian  interrupted  her.  He  was  hardly 
conscious  that  he  was  doing  so ;  he  had 
hardly  heard  her  words ;  but  the  atmo- 
sphere of  the  perfectly  appointed  room,  wdth 
its  artificial  mistress,  had  suddenly  become 
absolutely  intolerable  to  him,  and  he  had 
answered  his  own  question  suddenly  and 
recklessly. 

*'  I'm  going  out,  mother,"  he  said.  "  I've 
got  some  calls  to  make,  and  it's  getting  late. 
You  Avon't  go  out  this  afternoon,  I  know. 
Good-bye." 

He  was  gone  almost  before  she  had  realised 
that  he  was  going. 


54  A  VALIANT   IGNORANCE 

To  Mrs.  Komayne  it  was  a  repetition  of 
their  first  evening  at  home  together  in  the 
autumn.  The  nervous  excitement  under  which 
she  had  been  acting  died  suddenly  away,  and 
she  realised  what  had  happened  ;  realised  it, 
and  sat  for  a  moment  staring  at  it,  as  it  were, 
her  hands  clenched  on  the  tablecloth,  her  face 
haggard  and  drawn. 

To  Julian  it  was  no  repetition.  It  was  a 
new  departure,  sudden  and  unpremeditated, 
and  as  he  walked  away  from  his  mother's 
house  his  face  was  alight  and  eager  with 
excitement  and  determination. 


CHAPTER  III 

On  finding  himself  condemned  to  twelve 
months  in  London,  Dennis  Falconer  had  de- 
bated the  question  of  where  he  should  live 
at  some  length ;  and  had  finally  decided  on 
returning  to  some  rooms  in  the  neighbourhood 
of  the  Strand,  in  which  he  had  been  wont  to 
establish  himself  during  his  temporary  resi- 
dences in  London  for  the  past  fifteen  years. 
It  was  not  a  fashionable  part  of  London. 
Falconer  was  a  richer  man  now  than  he  had 
been  fifteen  years  before,  and  there  were 
sundry  luxuries  to  be  had  in  those  quarters  of 
London  where  wealthy  bachelors  congregate, 
which  were  not  recognised  so  far  south  of 
Piccadilly.  It  was  also  natural  to  him  to 
think  twice  before  he  abandoned  the  idea  of 
living  where  it  was  **  the  proper  thing  " — of 
the  hour — to  live.     But  he  was  known  and 


56  A  VALIANT   IGNORANCE 

respected  in  his  old  rooms ;  he  would  be 
received  there  with  deferential  delight  ;  he 
would  be  of  the  first  importance  in  his  land- 
lady's estimation  ;  and  these  things,  little  as 
he  knew  it,  had  a  distinct  influence  on  his 
decision. 

The  two  rooms  which  he  occupied,  on  the 
first  floor,  bore  a  strong  likeness  to  the  majority 
of  first-floor  rooms  in  the  same  street,  occupied 
by  single  gentlemen.  These  gentlemen  were 
not,  as  a  rule,  of  the  class  who  think  it  worth 
while  to  impress  their  artistic  character  upon 
the  room  in  which  they  live  ;  as  a  whole, 
indeed,  they  might  have  been  said  to  lack 
artistic  character.  Here  and  there  was  a  more 
inveterate  smoker,  newspaper-reader,  or  novel- 
reader,  as  the  case  might  be,  the  sign  manual 
of  whose  tastes  was  not  to  be  obliterated. 
But  as  a  rule  it  was  the  landlady's  taste  that 
reigned  supreme  and  monotonous. 

Dennis  Falconer's  rooms  were  no  excep- 
tion to  the  rule.  The  furniture  was  very 
comfortable,  very  solid,  and  very  ugly,  in  the 
style  of  thirty  years  ago ;  an  artistic  tempera- 
ment would  have  modified  the  whole  appear- 
ance of  the  room,  insensibly  and  necessarily, 


A  VALIANT   IGNORANCE  57 

in  the  course  of  a  week.  But  Falconer  was 
not  even  conscious  that  anything  was  wrong. 
He  was  as  nearly  devoid  of  aesthetic  sense, 
even  on  its  broadest  lines,  as  it  is  possible  for 
a  civilised  man  to  be  ;  and  the  state  of  mind 
which  takes  pleasure  in  the  tone  of  curtains 
and  carpets,  and  the  form  of  tables,  chairs,  or 
china,  was  to  him  incomprehensible,  and  con- 
sequently a  little  contemptible. 

On  a  November  morning,  with  an  incipient 
yellow  fog  hanging  about,  the  appearance  of 
the  room  in  which  breakfast  was  waiting  for 
him  was  calculated  to  cast  a  gloom  over  a 
temperament  never  so  little  open  to  such  m- 
liuences  ;  and  Dennis  Falconer  as  he  opened 
his  bedroom  door  and  came  slowly  out,  looked 
as  though  his  mental  atmosphere  was  already 
sufficiently  heavy.  He  always  breakfasted 
punctually  at  nine  o'clock,  and  he  never  w^ent 
to  bed  before  one  ;  it  simply  never  occurred 
to  him  to  make  any  concession  to  the  emptiness 
of  his  present  life  by  spending  more  than 
seven  hours  out  of  the  twenty-four  in  sleep, 
even  if  he  had  been  physically  able  to  do  so. 
And  there  were  days  when  the  intervening 
seventeen  hours  hung  on  his  hands  with  an 


68  A  VALIANT   IGNORANCE 

almost  unendurable  weight.  He  had  never 
been  a  man  who  readily  made  friends,  and 
his  tendency  in  this  direction  had  steadily 
decreased  as  he  grew  older,  so  that  the  few 
men  with  whom  he  \vas  intimate  were  friends 
of  his  early  manhood  ;  and,  as  it  happened, 
none  of  these  intimates  were  in  England  at 
the  moment.  He  was  absolutely  incapable  of 
forming  those  cheery,  unmeaning  acquaintance- 
ships which  make  the  savour  of  life  to  so 
many  unoccupied  men.  He  was  one  of  those 
men  with  whom  no  one  thinks  of  becoming 
familiar ;  who  is  vaguely  supposed  either  to 
have  a  private  and  select  circle  of  friends,  or 
to  be  sufficient  for  himself;  whose  demeanour, 
correct,  self-contained,  and  a  trifle  formal, 
seems  to  hold  the  world  at  a  distance.  Con- 
sequently his  intercourse  with  his  fellow- 
creatures  was  limited  by  his  present  life  to 
slight  conversation  on  the  topics  of  the  day  at 
his  club,  or  in  various  drawing-rooms  where 
he  paid  grave,  stiff  calls,  or  attended  stately 
functions.  Cut  off  from  his  own  particular 
work  he  bad  no  interests  and  no  pursuits. 

It  was  a  dreary  life  in  truth,  and  it  was 
little  wonder  that  Falconer's  expression  grew 


A  VALIANT   IGNORANCE  59 

rather  more  austere  with  every  week.  The 
sentiments  of  a  man  of  his  temperament  to- 
wards a  world  in  which  there  seemed  so  little 
place  for  him,  and  from  which  he  could  derive 
so  little  satisfaction,  would  inevitably  tend 
towards  stern  disapproval. 

On  this  particular  morning  the  sense  of 
dreariness  was  very  heavy  upon  him.  On  the 
previous  day  he  had  had  an  interview  with 
the  great  doctor  to  whose  fiat  he  owed  his 
detention  in  London.  The  great  doctor  had 
been  indefinite  and  unsatisfactory  ;  had  looked 
grave  and  talked  vaguely  about  troublesome 
complications  and  a  possible  necessity  of  com- 
plete repose.  Falconer  had  made  no  sign  of 
discomposure,  had  taken  his  leave  with  his 
usual  courteous  gravity,  and  had  left  the 
consulting-room  with  a  cold  chill  at  his  heart. 
The  cold  chill  was  about  it  still  this  morning 
as  he  walked  to  his  window  before  going  to 
the  breakfast-table,  and  stood  there  looking 
blankly  out.  What  he  was  really  looking  at 
was  the  prospect  before  him  if,  as  the  doctor 
had  hinted,  he  should  have  to  lie  up  for  a 
time.  A  lodging  and  a  nurse,  or  a  hospital ; 
solitude  and  confinement  in  either  case. 


60  A  VALIANT   IGXORAXUE 

He  siglied  heavily,  and  turning  as  though 
with  the  instinct  to  turn  away  from  his 
troubles,  he  sat  down  to  the  table,  ^^oured  out 
his  coffee,  and  took  up  the  letters  lying  by  his 
plate.  There  were  only  two — one  in  a  common- 
looking  envelope  directed  in  an  illiterate  liand, 
the  other  in  a  clear,  characteristic  man's  hand, 
at  the  sight  of  which  his  face  brightened 
perceptibly. 

"  Aston,"  he  said  to  himself,  and  opened  it 
quickly. 

His  friendship  for  the  little  doctor,  which 
time  had  only  served  to  strengthen,  was, 
perhaps,  the  most  genial  sentiment  of  Dennis 
Falconer's  life,  and  Dr.  Aston's  absence  in 
India  at  this  particular  period  had  been  a 
bitter  disappointment  to  him.  He  had  hoped 
for  some  time  that  the  doctor's  plans — always 
of  a  somewhat  erratic  nature — might  bring 
him  back  to  London  shortly ;  and  as  his  eyes 
fell  on  the  first  sentence  of  the  letter  a  slight 
sound  of  intense  relief  escaped  him ;  an 
eloquent  testimony  to  his  present  loneliness. 
Dr.  Aston  began  by  telling  him  that  he  would 
be  in  England  before  Christmas. 

The  letter  was   long  and   interesting;    it 


A  VALIANT   IGNORANCE  61 

abounded  in  bits  of  vivid  description  and 
shrewd  observation,  and  its  comments  on 
Falconer's  proceedings  were  keen  and  kindly. 
Its  recipient  allowed  himself  to  become  ab- 
sorbed in  it  to  the  total  neglect  of  his  break- 
fast, and  his  expression  was  lighter  than  it 
had  been  for  weeks  when  he  came  upon  these 
sentences  towards  the  close  of  the  letter  : 

"By-the-bye,  in  the  'latest  intelligence' 
of  London  society — all  is  fish  in  the  shape  of 
human  nature  that  comes  to  my  net,  as  you 
know,  and  I  study  that  curious  institution 
carefully  whenever  I  get  the  chance — I  con- 
stantly, nowadays,  come  across  the  name  of  a 
Mrs.  Romayne.  '  The  charming  Mrs.  Romayne 
and  her  good-looking  son '  is  the  usual  formula. 
It  is  not  by  any  chance  the  little  woman 
with  whom  I  got  myself  and  you  into  such  a 
terrible  fix  years  and  years  ago  at  Nice — 
William  Romayne's  widow  ?  Is  it  any  re- 
lation ?  I  should  like  to  know  what  became 
of  that  little  woman,  if  you  can  tell  me  ;  she 
had  stuff  in  her.  And  whether  the  boy  has 
dreed  his  weird  yet  ? " 

Falconer  laid  down  the  letter  abruptly,  and 
turned    to  his   breakfast,  his  face  stern  and 


62  A  VALIANT  IGNORANCE 

uncompromising.  His  interview  with  Mrs. 
Eomayne,  now  a  fortnight  old,  had  accentuated 
markedly  his  grim  disapprobation  of  her  ;  and 
the  strong  feeling  of  reprobation  that  stirred 
him  then  had  so  little  subsided  that  the  least 
touch  was  enough  to  re-endow  it  with 
vi odorous  life. 

"  Stuff  in  her ! "  he  muttered,  with  a 
world  of  contempt  in  the  curt  ejaculation. 
'*  Stuff  in  her  !     If  Aston  only  knew  !  " 

He  glanced  at  the  letter  again,  and  a 
certain  disapproval,  personal  to  the  writer, 
expressed  itself  in  the  grave  set  of  his  lips 
as  he  re-read  the  words  about  Julian  ;  his 
whole  mental  and  moral  attitude  was  antago- 
nistic to,  and  iDclined  to  condemn,  what  he 
characterised,  now,  as  "  Aston's  dangerous 
theories."  He  passed  with  what  seemed  to 
him  practical  sense  from  *'  Aston's  extrava- 
gance "  to  a  stern  consideration  of  the  heinous- 
ness  of  such  a  life  and  education  as  Julian's 
for  a  young  man  in  Julian's  position.  Julian's 
position,  rightly  considered,  involved  in  his 
eyes  a  reaping  in  obscurity,  humility,  and 
sombreness  of  life  of  the  harvest  of  shame  and 
disgrace  which  his  father  had  sown  ;  and  that 


A  VALIANT  IGNORANCE  63 

there  was  anything  inconsistent  between  this 
view  of  the  case  and  his  condemnation  of  Dr. 
Aston's  theories  he  was  utterly  unaware. 

He  applied  himself  to  his  breakfast,  still 
meditating  on  Mrs.  Komayne  and  the 
probable  consequences  of  her  callousness ; 
and  then  he  took  up  the  other  letter  and 
opened  it. 

At  the  opening  of  his  last  expedition,  one 
of  the  men  attached  to  it  had  met  with  a 
disabling  accident,  and  had  been  sent  home. 
The  man  had  been  with  Falconer  on  a  pre- 
vious expedition,  and  when  the  latter  re- 
turned to  England  he  had  made  enquiries 
about  him,  and  had  finally,  and  with  no  little 
difficulty,  traced  him  out  to  find  him  crippled 
for  life,  and  in  a  state  of  abject  poverty. 
Falconer,  according  to  his  narrow  and  ortho- 
dox lights,  as  strictly  conventional  in  their 
way  as  were  Mrs.  Eomayne's  in  hers,  was  a 
good  man.  The  letter  he  was  reading  now, 
from  the  wife  of  this  man,  was  written  by 
a  woman  by  whom  he  was  regarded  as  a 
kind  of  Providence ;  to  be  reverenced  in- 
deed, not  loved,  but  to  be  reverenced  wdth  all 
her  heart.     She  and  her  husband  had  been 


64  A  VALIANT   IGNOHANCE 

rescued  by  him  from  despair  ;  all  that  medical 
skill  could  do  for  the  man  had  been  done  at 
his  expense.  The  pair  had  been  settled  by 
him  in  a  small  house  in  Camden  Town,  where 
Mrs.  Dixon,  a  brisk,  capable  woman,  was  to  let 
lodofiiiQfs.  To  this  house  Falconer  had  been 
once  or  twice  to  see  the  crippled  man  ;  and  he 
was  not  now  surprised  to  receive  from  the  wife 
the  information — conveyed  in  a  style  in  which 
natural  loquacity  struggled  with  awe  of  her 
correspondent — that  the  husband  had  had  one 
of  the  bad  attacks  of  suffering  to  which  he  was 
liable,  and  that  if  Mr.  Falconer  could  spare 
half  an  hour,  Dixon  would  "  take  it  very  kind 
with  his  duty." 

Falconer  smiled  grimly  at  the  words  "  if 
Mr.  Falconer  could  spare  half  an  hour."  His 
whole  day  was  practically  at  Dixon's  disposal. 
He  would  go  up  to  Camden  Town  that  after- 
noon, he  decided ;  he  almost  wished  he  had 
thought  of  going  before,  and  as  the  thought 
crossed  his  mind,  the  remembrance  of  what 
might  possibly  be  lying  in  wait  for  himself  in 
the  not  very  distant  future  made  him  rise 
abruptly  and  thrust  his  letters  into  his 
pocket. 


A  VALIANT   IGNORANCE  65 

It  was  about  twelve  o'clock  when  lie  left 
his  rooms  and  walked  slowly  away  in  the 
direction  of  club-land.  He  usually  got  through 
an  hour  or  so  at  his  club  before  lunch,  reading 
the  papers  and  so  forth.  The  threatening  fog 
of  three  hours  earlier  had  rolled  away,  and 
there  were  gleams  of  wintry  sunshine  about 
which  made  walking  pleasant.  Dr.  Aston's 
letter  had  cheered  Falconer  considerably  ;  the 
feeling,  too,  that  he  had  a  definite  occupation 
for  his  afternoon,  and  an  occupation  which 
was  not  invented,  was  invigorating ;  and 
altogether  he  was  in  better  spirits  than  he  had 
been  for  many  a  day.  He  was  walking  up 
Waterloo  Place,  when  his  eyes,  which  could 
not  forego,  even  in  a  London  street,  their 
trained  habits  of  keen,  accurate  observation, 
lighted  on  Mars  ton  Loring,  who  was  coming 
down  Waterloo  Place  on  the  opposite  side  of 
the  road.  Loring  was  a  man  Dennis  Falconer 
particularly  disliked,  and  after  one  disapprov- 
ing glance  he  was  looking  away,  when  he  saw 
the  other  suddenly  stop  with  a  movement — 
and  evidently  an  exclamation — of  surprise  and 
welcome.  In  the  same  instant  he  became 
aware  that  Julian  Romayne  had  turned  out  of 

VOL.  II  p 


66  A  VALIANT   IGNORANCE 

a  side-street,  and  was  greeting  his  friend  ap- 
parently with  eflfusion.  Falconer's  brow  clouded 
involuntarily.  The  instinct  of  kin  was  so 
strong  in  him  that  there  was  a  certain  touch  of 
personal  feeling,  little  as  he  wished  it,  in  his 
connection  with  the  Romaynes,  which  made 
the  thought  of  them  particularly  disagreeable 
to  him  ;  and  here,  for  the  second  time  to-day, 
the  young  man  and  his  mother  were  forced 
upon  his  notice.  He  pursued  his  w^ay  up  the 
street,  watching  Julian  grimly,  and  as  he 
passed,  still  on  the  opposite  pavement,  the 
corner  where  the  two  young  men  were  stand- 
ing, Julian  happened  to  look  across,  saw  him, 
and  made  a  ready,  courteous  gesture  of  saluta- 
tion. Falconer  returned  it  stiffly  enough,  and 
walked  on. 

Julian  turned  to  Loring  with  a  laugh. 

''  Old  bear  !  "  he  said  ;  "  I  wish  he'd  take 
himself  off  to  Africa  or  somewhere.  He's  a 
regular  wet  blanket  to  have  about !  Well,  old 
fellow,  and  what's  the  news  ?  " 

Julian  was  looking  very  fresh,  vigorous, 
and  full  of  life.  There  was  a  curious  sugges- 
tion about  him  of  alertness  which  was  not 
without  a  certain  excitement :    and  his  tone 


A  VALIANT  IGNORANCE  67 

and  manner  as  he  spoke  were  almost  super- 
abundantly frank  and  loquacious. 

Ten  days  before,  Loring  had  received  a 
n^te  from  Mrs.  Eomayne  telling  him  that 
Julian  was  going  for  a  week's  holiday  to 
Brighton,  and  that  the  alteration  in  his  room 
must  be  completed  if  possible  in  his  absence. 
**  It  is  a  sudden  idea  with  him,  apparently," 
she  had  written  ;  "but  do  let  us  take  advan- 
tage of  it." 

If  Loring  had  had  his  own  private  notion 
on  the  subject  of  this  sudden  idea  on  Julian's 
part  he  had  made  no  sign  to  Julian's  mother  ; 
he  had  paid,  in  silence,  his  cynical  tribute  to 
the  maternal  wisdom  which  had  presumably 
recognised  the  fact  that  if  freedom  is  not 
granted  it  will  be  snatched. 

Three  days  had  now  passed  since  Julian's 
return,  but  it  had  happened — he  himself 
could  perhaps  have  told  how — that  until 
this  Saturday  afternoon  he  and  Loring  had 
not  met.  There  was  nothing  in  his  face  and 
manner  at  this  moment,  however,  but  the 
most  lively,  even  demonstrative  satisfaction ; 
and  without  giving  Loring  time  to  answer 
his  question  he  went   on,  with  an  ease  and 

F    2 


68  A  VALIANT   IGNORANCE 

gaiety  which  were  very  like,  and  yet  unlike, 
his  mother. 

"  Where  were  you  off  to  ?  The  club  ? 
Come  and  have  some  lunch  with  me,  do  !  I 
want  to  tell  you  how  first-rate  I  think  my 
room.  I  hear  you've  taken  no  end  of  trouble 
over  it.  It  was  awfully  jolly  of  you,  old 
man!" 

"  Glad  you  like  it,"  returned  Loring  non- 
chalantly. *'  Yes,  1  think  it's  nice.  But 
it  was  Mrs.  Eomayne  who  took  the  trouble." 

He  was  studying  Julian  keenly,  though 
quite  imperceptibly,  as  he  spoke.  The  young 
man's  manner  was  assumed — of  that  Loring 
was  quite  aware.  But  what,  exactly,  did  it 
hide  ?     What  exactly  was  the  secret  ? 

He  debated  this  question  calmly  with 
himself  throughout  the  lunch  which  they 
took  together  a  little  later  on ;  interposing 
question  and  remarks  the  while  into  Julian's 
flow  of  fluent  talk  and  laughter.  About 
Brighton,  in  particular,  Julian  was  full  of 
chatter  ;  and  as  he  wound  up  a  vivacious  de- 
scription of  his  doings  there,  Loring  com^ 
mented  mentally  : 

"  He  hasn't  been  to  Brighton  at  all ! " 


A  VALIANT   IGNORANCE  69 

Aloud  he  said,  as  genially  as  nature  ever 
allowed  him  to  speak : 

'*  Well,  it's  very  jolly  to  see  you  back 
again,  my  boy.  Do  you  know  we've  seen 
next  to  nothing  of  one  another  lately,  and 
I  vote  we  turn  over  a  new  leaf,  eh  ?  What 
are  you  going  to  do  this  afternoon,  now  ?  " 

He  was  leaning  back  in  his  chair  lighting 
a  cigarette  as  he  spoke,  and  apparently  his 
attention  was  wholly  claimed  by  the  process  ; 
as  a  matter  of  fact,  however,  he  was  study- 
ing Julian's  face  intently,  and  his  sense  of 
annoyance  was  not  untinged  with  admiration 
when  not  a  muscle  of  that  good-looking  face 
moved.  Julian  leant  back  and  crossed  his  legs 
airily. 

**  I  promised  to  go  to  the  Eastons',  I'm 
sorry  to  say  ! "  he  said.  "  It's  an  awful 
bore!  We  might  have  done  a  theatre 
too^ether  ! " 

Now,  the  Eastons  were  mutual  acquaint- 
ances of  the  two  men,  but  it  so  happened 
that  they  had  taken  irremediable  offence  against 
Loring  over  some  detail  connected  with  the 
bazaar,  and  it  was  no  longer  possible  for  him 
to  call  upon  them.    Julian  was  of  course  aware 


70  A  VALIANT   IGNORANCE 

of  the  fact,  and  Loring  smiled  cynically  at 
what  he  recognised  as  a  very  clever  move. 

*'  A  pity  ! "  he  said  composedly.  "  Better 
luck  another  time.  Well,  you're  not  in  any 
hurry,  anyway." 

''Not  a  bit !"  assented  Julian,  cheerfully 
disposing  of  himself  in  a  most  comfortable  and 
stationary  attitude.  But  a  moment  later  he 
sprang  to  his  feet.  *'  By  Jove  !  "  he  exclaimed, 
'*  I  nearly  forgot !  I've  got  a  commission  to 
do  for  my  mother  in  Bond  Street — shop  closes 
at  two.     Can  I  do  it  ?  " 

A  hurried  reference  to  his  ^vatch  assured 
him  that  he  would  just  do  it,  and  with  a 
hasty  farewell  he  dashed  out  of  the  room. 
Loring  did  not  propose  to  accompany  him. 
It  was  not  worth  while,  he  told  himself; 
and  he  smiled  sardonically  as  Julian  de- 
parted. 

*'  I  shall  find  out,"  he  said  to  himself. 
^*  Of  course  I  shall  find  out !  The  question 
is,  is  it  worth  while  to  wait,  or  shall  I  play 
my  game  with  what  I  know  ?  The  attached 
friend  of  the  boy  warning  his  mother  in  time" 
— he  smiled  again  very  unpleasantly — "  or  the 
sympathising  friend  of  the  mother  having  made 


A  VALIANT   IGNORANCE  71 

a  terrible  discovery  !  Which  is  the  better 
pose  ?  The  latter,  I  think.  Yes,  the  latter  ! 
ril  wait  until  I've  made  my  discovery." 

He  dropped  the  end  of  his  cigarette  into 
an  ash-tray,  sat  for  a  moment  more  in  deep 
thought,  and  then  rose  and  strolled  slowly 
away. 


CHAPTEK    IV 

Julian,  meanwhile,  hailed  a  passing  hansom, 
sprang  into  it,  and  told  the  man  to  drive, 
not  to  Bond  Street  but  to  the  Athenaeum, 
Camden  Town.  There  was  an  air  about 
him  as  of  one  who  plumes  himself  on  having 
done  a  clever  thing,  and  as  he  settled  him- 
self for  his  long  drive  there  was  a  curious 
excitement  and  radiance  in  his  face.  When 
the  cab  reached  its  destination  at  last  he 
jumped  out  and  walked  rapidly  and  eagerly 
away. 

It  was  not  a  neighbourhood  likely  to  be 
familiar  to  a  young  man  about  town,  but 
Julian  pursued  his  way  with,  the  certainty 
of  a  man  who  had  followed  it  several  times 
before.  In  about  ten  minutes  he  turned 
into  a  neat  and  respectable  little  street, 
consisting  of  two  short  rows  of  small  houses 


A  VALIANT  IGNORANCE  73 

with  diminutive  bow  windows  to  the  fiist- 
floor  rooms.  About  half-way  down  he  stopped 
at  a  house  on  the  right-hand  side  and  knocked 
with  a  quick,  decided  touch.  He  was  an 
object  of  the  deepest  interest  as  he  stood 
upon  the  little  doorstep  to  a  brisk,  curious- 
looking  woman  who  was  standing  in  the 
ground-floor  window  of  the  house  opposite, 
but  her  opportunity  for  observation  was  brief. 
The  door  was  opened  almost  immediately, 
and  with  a  pleasant  greeting  to  the  woman, 
who  stood  aside,  he  passed  her  and  ran 
upstairs  —  a  course  of  action  evidently  ex- 
pected of  him.  He  opened  the  door  of  the 
front  room  on  the  first  floor  and  went  eagerly 
in. 

''Here  I  am!"  he  cried.  "Did  you 
expect  me  so  soon  ? " 

Standing  in  the  middle  of  the  room,  as 
though  she  had  suddenly  started  from  her 
chair,  with  her  hands  outstretched  towards 
him,  was  Clemence  ;  and  on  the  third  finger 
of  that  thin,  left  hand  there  shone  a  bright 
gold  ring. 

Her  face  was  a  delicate  rosy  red,  as 
though    with   sudden  joy  just   touched    with 


74  A   VALIANT   IGNORANCE 

shyness,  and  all  the  beauty  which  had  been 
latent  in  her  tired,  work-worn  face  seemed 
to  have  been  touched  into  vivid,  almost 
startling  life,  by  the  hand  of  a  great  magician. 
By  contrast  with  the  face  she  turned  to 
Julian  now%  the  large  eyes  deep  and  glowing, 
the  mouth  trembling  a  little  with  tenderness, 
the  face  of  a  month  ago,  pure  and  sweet 
as  it  had  been,  would  have  looked  like  the 
inanimate  mask  of  a  dormant  soul.  The 
soul  was  awake  now,  quivering  with  con- 
sciousness ;  womanhood  had  come  with  a 
purity  and  beauty  beyond  any  possibility 
of  girlhood.  Looking  at  her  face  now,  it 
was  easy  to  see  by  what  means  alone  the 
latent  strength  of  her  character  might  be 
developed. 

He  drew  her  into  his  arms  with  an 
eager,  confident  touch,  and  she  yielded  to 
him  completely,  clinging  to  him  with  the 
colour  deepening  in  her  face  as  he  kissed 
it  boyishly  again  and  again.  It  was  a 
fortnight  only  since  he  had  kissed  her 
first. 

"  I  was  watching  for  you,"  she  said 
softly.     ''  I  heard  your  step." 


A  VALIANT   IGNORANCE  75 

He  laughed  exultantly  and  kissed  her 
again. 

''  I  thought  you'd  be  watching ! "  he  said. 
"  Though  I'm  earlier  than  I  told  you,  do 
you  know  ?  Much  earlier  1  I  say,  Clemence, 
how  jolly  the  room  looks  !  " 

It  was  a  small  room,  furnished  and 
decorated  in  the  simplest  and  cheapest  style ; 
as  great  a  contrast  as  could  well  be  imagined 
to  the  rooms  to  which  he  was  accustomed. 
But  it  was  very  clean  and  very  comfortable- 
looking  ;  and  there  was  a  homelike,  restful 
atmosphere  about  it  which  might  well  have 
radiated  from  the  slender  figure  in  the  plain 
dress,  with  that  shining  wedding-ring  and 
lovely,  flushing  face.  She  smiled,  a  very 
sweet,  pleased  little  smile. 

"  Do  you  think  so  really  ? "  she  said. 
**  I  am  so  glad.  It  is  that  beautiful  basket- 
chair  you  sent,  and  the  flowers."  She  glanced 
as  she  spoke  at  a  pot  of  chrysanthemums 
standing  on  a  little  table  in  the  window. 
Then  she  turned  to  him  again,  her  eyes 
a  little  deprecating.  ''Do  you  think  you 
ought  to  spend  so  much  money  ? "  she  said 
shyly. 


76  A  VALIANT   IGNORANCE 

Julian  laughed,  and  flung  his  arm  round 
her,  as  he  surveyed  the  little  room  with  a 
vivid  air  of  proprietorship.  Here  he  was 
master.  Here  his  word  was  law.  Here  he 
was  in  a  world  of  his  own  making,  and  his 
only  fellow-creature  w^as  his  subject. 

"It  looks  jolly!"  he  pronounced  again 
as  a  final  dictum.  "Now,  come  and  sit 
down,  Clemence,  and  tell  me  what  you've 
been  doing  since  yesterday ! "  He  settled 
himself  into  the  arm-chair  by  the  fire  with 
a  lordly  air  as  he  spoke,  adding  :  "  Coaie  and 
sit  on  this  stool  by  me,  like  the  sweetest 
girl  in  the  world." 

Clemence  hesitated,  hardly  perceptibly. 
Hers  was  a  nature  to  which  trivial  endear- 
ments c.ime  strangely,  almost  painfully.  She 
had  not  yet  learned  to  caress  in  play ;  and 
there  was  an  innate,  unconscious,  personal 
dignity  about  her  to  which  trivial  self- 
abasement  was  unnatural.  But  almost  before 
she  was  conscious  of  her  reluctance  there 
swept  over  her,  like  a  great  wave  of  hot 
sweetness,  the  remembrance  that  she  was 
his  wife !  It  was  her  duty  to  do  as  he 
wished.      She  came    softly  across    the    room, 


A  VALIANT   IGNORANCE  77 

sat    down    on   the   stool    he    had  drawn  out, 
and  laid  her  cheek  against  his  arm. 

It  was  a  trivial  action,  very  quietly 
performed,  but  it  was  instinct  with  the 
beauty  of  absolute  self-abnegation ;  and  as 
if,  as  her  physical  presence  touched  him, 
something  of  her  spirit  touched  him  too,  a 
sudden  quiet  fell  upon  the  exultant,  self- 
satisfied  boy  at  whose  feet  she  sat.  Not  for 
the  first  time,  by  any  means,  there  stole 
over  Julian  a  vague  uneasiness ;  a  vague 
realisation  of  something  beyond  his  ken ; 
something  in  the  light  of  which  he  shrank, 
unaccountably,  from  himself.  His  hand 
closed  round  the  woman's  hand  lying  in  his 
with  a  touch  very  different  from  the  boyish 
passion  of  his  previous  caresses,  and  for  a 
moment  he  did  not  speak.  Then  he  said 
slowly  and  in  a  low,  dreamy  voice  : 

''  Clemence,  I  can't  think  why  you  should 
ever  have  loved  me  !  " 

The  hand  in  his  thrilled  slightly,  and 
the  head  on  his  shoulder  was  just  shaken. 
Clemence  could  not  tell  him  why  she  loved 
him.  The  bald  outline  she  could  trace  as 
most    women    can   trace   it.     She  could  look 


78  A  VALIANT   IGNORANCE 

back  upon  her  first  sense  of  reliance,  her 
pity,  her  admiration,  her  sense  of  strange, 
delightful  companionship ;  but  the  why  and 
wherefore  of  it,  the  mystery  which  had 
given  to  this  young  man  and  no  other  the 
key  of  her  soul,  this  was  to  her  as  a 
miracle ;  as,  indeed,  there  is  always  something 
miraculous  in  it,  even  when  it  seems  most 
natural.  To  account  for  love ;  to  say  that 
in  this  case  it  is  natural,  in  this  case  it  is 
unnatural ;  is  to  confess  ignorance  of  the 
first  great  attribute  of  love  —  that  it  is 
supernatural  and  divine. 

There  was  another  silence,  a  longer  one 
this  time,  and  the  strange  spell  sank  deeper 
into  Julian's  spirit.  He  said  nothing.  It 
would  have  been  a  relief  to  him  to  speak ; 
to  reduce  to  words,  or,  indeed,  to  definite 
•consciousness,  the  vague  trouble  that  op- 
pressed him ;  but  its  outlines  were  too  large 
and  too  vague  for  him.  It  was  in  truth  a 
sense  of  total  moral  insolvency,  but  he  could 
not  understand  it  as  such,  having  no  moral 
standpoint.  Clemence  neither  moved  nor 
spoke ;  her  hand  lay  motionless  in  his ;  her 
cheek  rested  against  him ;  her  beautifid  eyes 


A  VALIANT  IGNORANCE  79 

looked  straight  before  them  with  a  dreamy, 
almost  awestruck  gaze. 

At  last,  with  a  desperate  determination 
to  thrust  away  so  unusual  an  oppression, 
Julian  moved  slightly  and  began  to  talk.  He 
wanted  to  get  back  his  sense  of  superiority, 
and  his  voice  accordingly  took  its  most 
boyish  and  masterful  tone. 

'*You  haven't  told  me  what  you've  been 
doing,  Clemence  ? "  he  said.  "  Have  you 
given  notice  at  your  bonnet  shop  as  I  told 
you  ?  " 

Clemence  lifted  her  head  and  sat  up, 
clasping  her  hands  lightly  on  the  arm  of 
his  chair. 

"  No  !  "  she  said  gently.  "  I  thought  I 
would  ask  you  to  think  about  it  again.  I 
would  so  much  rather  go  on  if  you  didn't 
mind.  For  one  thing,  what  could  I  do  all 
day  ? "  She  looked  up  into  his  face  as  she 
spoke  with  deprecating,  pleading  eyes,  w^hich 
were  full  of  submission,  too ;  and  the  sub- 
mission was  very  pleasant  to  Julian. 

"  I  do  mind,"  he  said  authoritatively. 
'^  I  can't  have  it,  Clemence.  I  can't  always 
see   you   home,   don't   you  see,   and  I  won't 


80  A  VALIANT   IGNORANCE 

have  you  about  at  night  alone.  Besides,  I 
don't  choose  that  you  should  work." 

"But  I  do  so  want  to!"  she  said,  laying 
her  hand  timidly  and  beseechingly  on  his. 
"It  will  be  so  difficult  for  you  to  keep  us 
both ;  you  will  overwork  yourself,  I'm  so 
afraid.  Oh,  won't  you  let  me  help  ?  I've 
always  worked,  you  know ;  it  doesn't  hurt 
me.  You  don't  want  to  forget  that  you've 
married  a  work-girl,  do  you  ? " 

She  smiled  at  him  as  she  spoke,  one  of 
her  sweet,  rare  smiles,  and  he  kissed  her 
impetuously. 

"  Don't  talk  nonsense ! "  he  said  im- 
periously. "  I  can't  allow  it,  and  that's  all 
about  it.  How  do  you  suppose  I  could 
attend  to  my  work  when  I'm  kept  at  the 
hospital  in  the  evening,  if  I  were  thinking 
all  the  time  of  you  alone  in  the  streets ! 
No,  you  must  give  notice  on  Monday ! " 

She  looked  at  him  wistfully  for  a 
moment.  He  was  condemning  her  to  long 
days  of  idleness,  to  constant  uneasiness  and 
self-reproach  on  his  behalf,  to  a  certain  loss 
of  self-respect.  But  self-sacrifice  was  in- 
stinctive with  her. 


A  VALIANT   IGNOEANCE  81 

«f  Very  well  ! "  she  said  simply. 

The  little  victory,  the  assertion  of 
authority  restored  Julian's  spirits  completely, 
and  he  plunged  into  discursive  talk ;  more 
or  less  egotistical.  It  was  all,  necessarily, 
founded  on  falsehood,  and  it  would  have 
been  a  delicate  question  to  decide  when  his 
talk  ceased  to  be  consciously  untruthful, 
and  became  the  expression  of  a  fictitious 
Julian  in  whom  the  real  Julian  absolutely 
believed. 

The  afternoon  wore  on ;  the  winter 
twilight  fell,  bringing  with  it  a  slight  return 
of  the  fog  of  the  morniag  ;  two  hours  had 
passed  before  Julian  moved  reluctantly,  and 
said  that  he  must  go. 

"I  shall  come  to-morrow!"  he  said, 
taking  her  face  between  his  hands  and  kissing 
it.  "  We'll  go  out  into  the  country  if  it's 
fine.  I  wish  it  were  summer-time  !  Have  you 
ever  seen  the  river,  Clemence  ?  " 

'*Not  in  the  country,"  she  said.  "It 
must  be  nice  !  How  much  you've  seen  !  Do 
you  know  I  often  think  that  you  must  wish 
sometimes  I  was  a  lady !  I  don't  know 
anything  and  I  haven't  seen  anything,   and 

VOL.  II  G 


82  A  VALIANT   IGNORANCE 

"  she  faltered,  and  he  rose,  laughing  and 

drawing  her  up  into  his  arms. 

'*Any  one  can  know  things,"  he  said 
lightly,  **  and  any  one  can  see  things.  But 
no  one  but  you  can  be  Clemence  !  Do  you 
see  ?     Oh,    what   a   bore   it    is    to    have    to 

go!" 

He  was  lingering,  undecidedly,  as  though 
a  little  pressure  would  have  scattered  his 
resolution  to  the  winds,  and  seated  him  once 
more  in  the  chair  he  had  just  quitted.  But, 
since  he  had  said  that  he  must  go,  it  never 
occurred  to  Clemence  to  ask  him  to  stay.  If 
it  were  not  his  duty  he  would  never  leave  her. 
If  it  was  his  duty  now,  how  could  she  hold 
him  back  ! 

**To- morrow  will  come!"  she  said, 
looking  into  his  face  with  a  brave  smile. 

"  I  don't  believe  you  want  me  to  stay  !  " 
he  returned,  half  laughing,  half  vexed. 

''  Don't  I  ? "  she  said  simply,  and  he  caught 
her  in  his  arms  again. 

^'What  a  shame!"  he  said.  "There, 
good-bye  !     Are  you  coming  to  the  door  ? " 

She  shook  her  head. 

''I'll    stay    here,"  she    said,    ''and   watch 


A  VALIANT  IGNORANCE  83 

you  from  the  window.  I  see  you  farther  so. 
Ah,  it's  rather  foggy  !  I'm  so  sorry  !  You'll 
look  up  ?     Good-bye  !  " 

She  lifted  her  face  to  his  and  kissed  him 
tenderly  and  shyly,  and  he  left  her  standing 
by  the  window. 

Julian  ran  downstairs,  let  himself  out,  and 
stood  for  a  moment  on  the  doorstep  as  he 
realised  the  disagreeable  nature  of  the  at- 
mosphere. At  the  same  instant  the  door  of 
the  house  opposite  opened,  and  a  man  came 
out,  attended  to  the  threshold  by  a  woman. 
She  caught  sight  of  Julian  instantly,  and  said 
somethiug  to  the  man,  as  he  stood  in  the 
shadow,  in  a  deferential  whisper.  Julian 
shook  himself,  confounded  the  fog,  and  then 
glanced  up  at  the  window  from  which  the 
light  streamed  on  his  face.  He  waved  his 
hand,  turned  away,  and  walked  rapidly  down 
the  street,  pulling  up  his  coat  collar  as  he 
went. 

As  he  went,  Dennis  Falconer  slowly  de- 
scended the  two  steps  of  that  opposite  house, 
and  slowly — very  slowly — followed  him. 


G  2 


CHAPTER   y 

*'  Good-bye  !  So  glad  to  have  seen  you ! 
What,  dear  Mrs.  Ponsonby,  are  you  going  to 
run  away  too  ?  So  kind  of  you  to  come  out 
on  such  an  afternoon  !     Good-bye  !  " 

It  was  a  Friday  afternoon,  and  Friday  was 
Mrs.  Romayne's  "day."  This  particular 
Friday  had  been  about  as  unpleasant,  at- 
mospherically, as  it  is  possible  for  even  a 
November  day  to  be,  short  of  actual  dense 
fog ;  it  had  been  very  dark,  and  a  drizzling 
rain — a  dirty  rain  too — had  fallen  unceasingly. 
Under  these  circumstances  it  was  rather 
surprising  that  any  one  should  have  ventured 
out,  even  in  the  most  luxurious  brougham, 
than  that  Mrs.  Romayne's  visitors  should  have 
been  comparatively  few  in  number. 

The  departure  of  the  ladies  to  whom  her 


A  VALIANT   IGNORANCE  85 

farewells  had  been  spoken,  and  with  whom  she 
had  been  exchanging  social  commonplaces  for 
the  last  quarter  of  an  hour,  left  her  alone  ;  and 
as  she  returned  to  her  chair  by  the  dainty  tea- 
table  and  poured  herself  out  a  cup  of  tea,  she 
had  apparently  very  little  expectation  of 
further  callers,  though  it  was  only  just  past 
five  o'clock  :  for  when  the  door-bell  rans:  a  few 
minutes  later  she  paused,  and  a  look  of 
surprise  crossed  her  face.  She  put  down  her 
cup  with  a  little  sigh,  which  was  more  a 
concession  made  to  the  dictum  of  con- 
ventionality that  callers  are  a  bore  than^an 
expression  of  real  feeling ;  and  then,  as  the 
door  opened,  she  rose  with  a  touch  of  genuine 
satisfaction. 

"  My  dear  Mrs.  Pomeroy  !  "  she  exclaimed. 
*^  How  sweet  of  you  to  come  out  on  such  a 
shocking  day  !  Keally,  you  must  have  had  an 
intuition  of  my  forlorn  condition,  I  think ! 
Maud,  dear,  how  are  you  ?  " 

She  had  given  her  left  hand  to  the  girl  in 
a  familiar,  caressing  way  as  she  retained  Mrs. 
Pomeroy 's  right  hand,  and  now  she  drew  the 
elder  lady  with  charming  insistence  towards  a 
large,  inviting-looking  chair,  indicating  to  the 


86  A  VALIANT  IGXOEANCE 

daughter  with  a  pretty  gesture  that  she  was 
to  take  a  low  seat  near  the  table. 

"  It  is  an  ill  wind  that  blows  no  one  any 
good  !  "  she  continued  gaily,  as  Mrs.  Pomeroy 
greeted  her  placidly.  *'It  is  really  too  de- 
lightful to  get  you  all  to  myself  like  this  ! 
How  seldom  one  gets  the  chance  of  a  cosy 
chat !  And  how  very  seldom  it  comes  ^'ith 
the  people  of  all  others  with  whom  one  would 
thoroughly  enjoy  it !  You'll  have  some  tea, 
won't  you — oh,  yes,  you  really  must ;  it  is  so 
much  more  friendly ! "  She  laughed  as  she 
spoke,  and  turned  to  the  girl  sitting  demurely 
on  the  low  seat  near  her  with  a  tacit  claim  on 
her  sympathy  and  comprehension  which  was 
very  fascinating.  Miss  Pomeroy's  pretty, 
expressionless  lips  smiled  sweetly,  and  her 
mother,  who  was  always  ready  to  yield  to 
pressure  where  a  cup  of  tea  was  concerned — 
that  soothing  beverage  being  forbidden  her 
by  her  medical  authorities — answered  con- 
tentedly : 

''Well,  thanks,  yes!  I  think  I  will! 
One  really  wants  a  cup  of  tea  on  a  day  like 
this,  doesn't  one  ?  "  Mrs.  Pomeroy  had  rarely 
been  known  to  leave  a  statement  unqualified 


A  VALIANT   IGNORANCE  87 

by  a  question.  "  It  is  really  very  disagreeable 
weather,  isn't  it  ?  Not  that  it  seems  to  trouble 
you  at  all."  Mrs.  Pomeroy  smiled  one  of  her 
slow,  amiable  smiles  as  she  spoke.  ''I  am  so 
glad  to  see  you  looking  so  much  better !  " 

Mrs.  Romayne  laughed. 

"  I  am  very  well  indeed,  thanks,"  she  said. 
"  But  I've  not  been  ill  that  I  know  of,  dear 
Mrs.  Pomeroy. '^ 

Mrs.  Pomeroy  shook  her  head  gently. 

*'  I  thought,  do  you  know,  when  I  first 
came  home,  that  you  looked  as  though  your 
holiday  had  been  a  little  too  much  for  you — 
so  many  people's  holiday  is  a  little  too  much 
for  them,  don't  you  think  ?  And  how  is  your 
boy  ?     Very  hard  at  work,  we  hear." 

Mrs.  Romayne  smiled. 

Mrs.  Pomeroy 's  opinion  as  to  her  looks  had 
been  quite  correct ;  and  it  was  only  within  the 
last  fortnight  that  they  had  altered  for  the 
better.  Within  that  fortnight  her  briojhtness 
and  vivacity  had  ceased  to  be — as  they  had 
been  for  weeks  before  —  wholly  artificial ; 
something  of  the  look  of  nervous  strain  had 
gone  out  of  her  eyes,  and  her  face  was 
altogether  less  sharpened.     Her  smile  now  was 


88  A  VALIANT   IGNORANCE 

genuine  ;  and  her  voice  was  strangely  tender 
and  contented. 

"  Very  liard,"  she  said.  "  I  have  had  to 
get  used  to  a  great  deal  of  absence  on  his 
part.  He  has  gone  down  to  Brighton  to-day, 
until  Monday  ;  he  needs  a  little  fresh  air,  of 
course.  It  is  so  long  since  he  has  been  shut 
up  as  he  is  now^" 

"You  must  miss  him  very  much,"  said 
Mrs.  Pomeroy  placidly. 

Mrs.  Romayne  did  not  answer  directly, 
except  with  a  laugh. 

*'  I  am  almost  inclined  to  envy  mothers 
wdth  daughters,"  she  said,  smiling  at  Miss 
Pomeroy  again.  ''  I  wonder,  now  " — a  sudden 
idea  had  apparently  struck  Mrs.  Romayne — 
'^I  wonder  whether  you  would  lend  me  your 
daughter  now  and  then,  and  I  wonder 
W'hether  she  would  consent  to  be  Ifet." 

"  I  should  be  delighted,"  said  Mrs. 
Pomeroy,  with  vague  amiability,  and  an 
equally  vague  glance  at  her  daughter.  ''And 
I'm  sure  Maud  will  be  delighted,  too,  w^on't 
you,  Maud?" 

"  Delighted-!"  assented  Maud,  with  pretty 
promptitude. 


A  VALIANT   IGNORANCE  89 

"Well,  then,  we  must  arrange  it  some  time 
or  other,'*  declared  Mrs.  Eomayne  gaily. 
*'  Perhaps  you  would  come  and  spend  a  week 
with  me,  Maud — that  would  be  charming !  " 

But  she  did  not  press  the  point,  letting 
the  subject  drop  with  apparent  carelessness, 
and  talking  about  other  things,  always  keeping 
the  girl  in  the  conversation  ;  turning  to  her 
now  and  then  with  a  pleasant,  familiar  word,  or 
a  gesture  which  w^as  lightly  affectionate.  The 
mother  and  daughter  had  risen  to  take  leave 
when  she  said  carelessly  : 

'*  Oh,  by-the-bye,  Maud,  dear,  have  you 
anything  to  do  to-morrow  afternoon  ?  I've 
been  bothered  into  takincj  two  tickets  for  a 
matinde,  a  charity  affair,  you  know,  but  they 
say  it  will  be  rather  good.  It  would  be  so 
nice  of  you  to  come  with  me  !  " 

"  It  will  be  very  nice  of  you  to  take 
me  !  "  was  the  response.  *'  Thank  you  very 
much  !  " 

A  minute  or  two  more  passed  in  the 
arrangement  of  the  place  and  hour  for  meet- 
ing, and  then  Mrs.  Pomeroy  drifted  blandly 
out  of  the  room,  followed  by  her  daughter, 
and  Mrs.  Romayne  was  again  alone. 


90  A  VALIANT   IGNOEANCE 

She  walked  to  the  fireplace  this  time,  and 
putting  one  foot  on  the  fender,  stood  looking 
down,  her  face  intent  and  satisfied. 

'*  Just  the  riorht  sort  of  girl  !  "  she 
said  to  herself.  ''Just  the  right  sort  of 
girl!" 

She  was  wearing  the  little  gold  bangle 
which  Julian  had  given  her  on  her  birthday — 
the  one  which  Miss  Pomeroy  had  helped  him 
to  choose — and  she  was  turning  it  on  her 
wrist  with  tender,  contemplative  touches. 
She  was  so  absorbed  in  her  reflection  that  she 
did  not  hear  the  servant  come  into  the  room, 
or  notice  for  the  moment  that  the  girl  was 
standing  beside  her  with  a  letter.  She  started 
at  last,  and  looked  up  ;  took  the  letter,  and 
opened  it  carelessly,  w^ithout  looking  at  it,  as 
the  woman  took  away  the  tea-table. 

"Dear  Cousin  Hermia, 

''Unless  I  hear  from  you  to  the 
contrary,  I  propose  to  call  on  you  to-morrow 
(Saturday),  at  three  o'clock,  on  a  matter  of 
grave  importance. 

"  Faithfully  yours, 

"Dennis  Falconer." 


A  VALIANT  IGNORANCE  91 

Mrs.  Eomayne's  face  had  changed  slightly 
as  sh€  beofan  to  read — chanojed  and  hardened 
— and  as  she  finished  she  drew  the  letter 
through  her  fingers  with  a  gesture  of  mere 
impatience,  which  was  somehow  belied  by  the 
look  in  her  eyes.  Something  of  that  strained 
look  had  come  back  into  them.  She  could 
not  see  him  to-morrow,  she  was  saying  to 
herself  briefly ;  she  was  not  going  to  put  off 
Maud  Pomeroy ;  Dennis  Falconer  must  fix 
another  time,  and  she  would  write  him  a  line 
at  once.  She  walked  quickly  across  to  her 
writing  table,  sat  down,  drew  out  a  sheet  ^f 
paper  and  took  up  a  pen. 

And  then  she  paused. 

Ten  minutes  later  her  note  was  written, 
and  on  its  way  to  the  post,  but  it  was  not 
directed  to  Dennis  Falconer.  It  began,  "My 
dear  Maucl,"  and  it  told  Miss  Pomeroy  that 
business  had  "  turned  up  "  which  would  make 
it  impossible  for  Mrs.  Eomayne  to  go  to 
the  theatre  on  the  following  afternoon,  and 
that  she  enclosed  the  tickets  hoping  that 
Maud  might  be  able  to  use  them. 

Exactly  on  the  stroke  of  three  on  the 
following  afternoon  the  door-bell  rang.     Mrs. 


92  A  VALIANT  IGNORANCE 

Komayne  was  alone  in  the  drawing-room, 
apparently  lazily  and  pleasantly  enough 
occupied  with  the  latest  number  of  the  latest 
society  paper ;  and  as  the  sound  reached 
her  ear  her  lips  hardened  into  a  thin,  straight 
line,  and  her  eyes  flashed  for  a  moment  with 
a  look  of  antagonism  which  was  almost  defiant. 
Then  the  servant  announced  : 

*'  Mr.  Falconer  !  " 

Dennis  Falconer  was  looking  very  pale ; 
there  was  little  colour  even  in  his  lips,  and 
his  face  was  set  and  stern.  He  took  the  hand 
Mrs.  Romayne  held  out  to  him,  and  replied 
to  her  greeting  in  the  briefest  possible  phrase, 
with  no  softening  of  a  something  curiously 
solemn  and  inexorable  about  his  demeanour, 
though  his  eyes  rested  on  her  for  an  instant 
with  a  singular  expression.  He  disliked  and 
despised  the  woman  before  him,  and  yet  at 
that  moment  he  pitied  her. 

*'  Sit  down  !  "  she  said.  ''  I  am  charmed 
to  see  you,  though,  do  you  know,  you  have 
chosen  an  inopportune  moment.  I  had  a 
very  pleasant  engagement  for  this  afternoon, 
and  I  nearly  put  you  off.  So  I  hope  the 
business  is  really  very  grave." 


A  VALIANT   IGNORANCE  93 

Her  voice  was  lightness  itself,  and  that 
very  lightness,  with  the  almost  unusual 
loquacity  with  which  she  had  received  him, 
seemed  to  witness  to  the  presence  in  her 
mind  of  a  recollection  which  she  was  deter- 
mined to  ignore  —  the  recollection  of  their 
last  interview,  in  that  very  room.  There 
was  an  air  about  her  of  having  entrenched 
herself  behind  a  barrier  which  she  defied 
him  to  pass ;  of  being  resolute  this  time 
against  surprise,  or  against  any  other  method 
of  attack. 

"It  is  very  grave  !  "  said  Falconer,  and 
in  contrast  with  her  voice,  his  rang  with 
stern  heaviness.  "  I  must  ask  you  to  prepare 
yourself  for  bad  news  !  " 

"  Bad  news  ! "  she  echoed  sharply,  as  her 
eyes,  fixed  on  his  face,  grew  suddenly  bright 
and  keen.  "  Oh — money,  I  suppose  ?  "  Her 
voice  jarred  a  little,  though  she  spoke  very 
lightly. 

"  No  !  "  said  Falconer. 

His  tone  was  absolutely  uncompromising. 
On  his  unsympathetic  and  unimaginative 
mind  the  effect  of  her  manner  was  to  obli- 
terate his  sense  of  pity  beneath  a  consciousness 


94  A  VALIANT   IGNORANX'E 

of  tlie  retributive  justice  of  the  moment  before 
lier. 

*'  Not  money  ? "  she  said,  with  a  little, 
unreal  laugh.  **  Well,  that's  a  comfort,  at 
any  rate."  Her  hand  had  clenched  itself 
suddenly  rounrl  the  arm  of  her  chair  on 
his  monosyllable,  and  now  she  paused  a 
moment,  almost  as  though  her  breath  had 
failed  her,  before  she  said,  with  affected 
carelessness  :  *'  And  if  not — what  ? " 

Her  back  was  towards  the  light,  and 
Falconer  could  not  see  her  face. 

^'  I  will  answer  your  question,  if  you  will 
allow  me,  with  another,"  he  said.  '*  Have 
you  noticed  anything  unusual  in  the  course 
of  the  past  month — or  more — in  the  conduct 
of  your  son  ? " 

In  the  instant's  dead  silence  that  followed 
a  slight  creaking  sound  made  itself  audible 
and  then  died  away.  The  clenched  hand  on 
the  bar  of  Mrs.  Eomayne's  chair  had  passed 
slowly  round  it  with  such  intense  pressure 
as  to  produce  the  sound.  Then  she  answered 
him,  as  he  had  previously  answered  her,  in 
a  monosyllable. 

*'  No  !  "  she  said.     There  was  a  desperate 


A  VALIANT   IGNORANCE  95 

effort  in  her  voice  at  carelessness,  at  non- 
chalance, at  astonishment ;  but  it  was  pene- 
trated through  and  through  with  all  her  past 
antagonism  towards,  and  defiance  of,  the  man 
before  her  accentuated  into  fierce  repudiation. 
Falconer's  voice,  as  he  answered  her,  seemed 
to  confront  that  defiance  with  inexorable 
fate. 

"  That  is  almost  unfortunate,"  he  said 
sternly.  *'  In  that  case,  I  fear  that  what  I 
have  to  tell  you  must  fall  with  double  and 
treble  severity,  as  coming  upon  you  unawares 
Will  you  not  think  again  ?  Has  he  not  been 
absent  from  home  a  good  deal  ?  Have  his 
absences  been  satisfactorily  accounted  for  ? 
Have  you  ever  proved  " — he  paused,  laying 
stress  upon  the  last  word — ''  have  you  ever 
proved  such  accounts,  as  given  by  himself, 
correct  ? " 

With  a  valiant  effort,  the  power  of  which 
Falconer  must  have  appreciated  had  he  been 
able  to  j)enetrate  beyond  the  ghastly  arti- 
ficiality of  the  result,  Mrs.  Romayne  rallied 
her  forces,  and  strove  to  throw  his  words 
back  upon  him ;  to  defend  and  entrench 
herself  once  and  for  all  with  the  only  w^eapon 


96  A  VALIANT   IGNOEANCE 

she  knew.     She  broke  into  a    thin,   tuneless 
laugh. 

"  What  an  absolutely  gruesome  catechism!" 
she  cried.  "  Really,  it  would  take  me  weeks 
of  solitary  confinement  and  meditation  among 
the  tombs — isn't  there  a  book  about  that, 
by-the-bye  ? — before  I  could  approach  it  in 
a  duly  sepulchral  spirit.  Do  you  know,  it 
would  be  an  absolute  relief  to  me  if  you 
could  come  to  the  point  ?  I  am  taking  it 
for  granted,  you  see,  that  there  is  a  pointy 
which  is  no  doubt  a  compliment  which  its 
infinitesimal  nature  hardly  deserves.  Produce 
the  poor  little  thing,  for  heaven's  sake  !  " 

"  The  point  is  this,"  said  Falconer  grimly 
and  concisely.  "  Your  son's  life,  as  you 
know  it,  is  a  lie.  He  has  a  sordid  version 
of  what  is  known  as  an  *  establishment.' 
He  is  living  with  a  work-girl  in  Camden 
Town." 

There  was  a  choked,  strangled  sound,  and 
Mrs.  Romayne's  figure  seemed  to  shrink 
together  as  though  every  muscle  had  con- 
tracted in  one  simultaneous  throb.  Her  face, 
could  Falconer  have  seen  it,  was  rigid  and 
blank,   except   for   her   eyes.     For   that  first 


A  VALIANT   IGNORANCE  97 

instant  she  looked  as  a  patient  might  look 
who,  having  suspected  himself  of  a  deadly 
disease,  having  congratulated  himself  on  the 
subsidence  of  his  symptoms  and  known  hope, 
learns  from  his  physician  that  that  subsidence 
of  obvious  symptoms  was  in  itself  only  a 
more  dangerous  symptom  still,  and  that  he 
is  indeed  doomed.  Her  eyes  were  the  eyes  of 
a  woman  who  looks  despair  full  in  the  face. 

But  with  no  human  being  who  keeps 
hold  of  life  and  reason  can  the  vivid  agony 
of  such  a  vision  endure  for  more  than  an 
instant.  It  dulls  by  reason  of  its  very  In- 
supportableness.  Time  is  an  empty  word 
where  mental  suffering  is  concerned,  and  the 
second-hand  of  the  tall  clock  in  the  corner 
had  traversed  its  dial  only  once  before  a 
kind  of  film  passed  over  those  agonised  eyes, 
and  Mrs.  Eomayne  spoke  in  a  thin,  hoarse 
voice.  And  the  man  so  close  to  her  was 
conscious  of  nothing  but  a  short  pause,  and 
was  revolted  accordingly. 

"  How  do  you  know  ? "  Even  in  that 
moment  the  instinct  of  defiance  of  him 
personally  could  not  wholly  yield,  and  lingered 
in  her  voice. 

VOL.  II  H 


98  A  VALIANT   IGNOrvANCE 

''  I  have  an  old  servant  who  lives  in 
Camden  Town.  He  is  an  invalid,  and  I 
occasionally  visit  him.  His  wife  is  a  garru- 
lous woman,  and  thinking  that  I  have  some 
claim  on  her  gratitude,  considers  it  necessary 
to  inform  me  as  to  all  her  own  and  her 
neigh)30urs'  affairs.  Visiting  the  husband  last 
Friday  week,  I  found  the  wife  greatly  excited 
and  alarmed  for  the  reputation  of  the  street 
— in  which  she  lets  lodgings — by  the  appear- 
ance in  the  house  opposite  of  a  couple  whose 
relations  to  one  another  had  instantly  been 
suspected  by  their  landlady  and  her  neigh- 
bours, though  they  passed  as  newly-made 
man  and  wife  !  " 

With  a  sudden,  low  cry  of  inexpressible 
horror  and  dismay  Mrs.  Eomayne  sprang  to 
her  feet,  flinging  out  her  hands  as  though 
to  keep  off  something  intolerable  to  be 
borne. 

"  No  !  no  !  "  she  cried  breathlessly,  '^  No  ! 
no  !  Not  that !  Not  married  ?  It  would  be 
ruin  !     Euin  !  ruin !     No  !  no  !  " 

Dennis  Falconer  paused,  freezing  slowly 
into  what  seemed  to  him  surely  justifiable 
abhorrence  of  the  woman  before  him.     What 


A  VALIANT   IGNORANCE  99 

if  lie  knew  in  his  heart  that  such  a  marriage 
would  indeed  mean  ruin  to  a  young  man  ? 
So  bald  a  trampling  down  of  the  moral  aspect 
of  the  position  before  the  practical  was  not 
decent  !  It  was  for  a  woman  —  and  that 
woman  the  young  man's  mother — to  be  over- 
whelmed by  the  moral  horror  to  the  exclusion 
of  every  other  thought  !  And  it  was  the 
practical  alone  that  had  drawn  any  show  of 
emotion  from  Mrs.  Eomayne  ! 

"  I  am  sorry  to  have  agitated  you  !  "  he 
said,  and  his  voice  was  cold  and  cutting 
as  steel.  "  I  have  no  doubt  in  my  own  mind 
that  they  are  not  married.  I  had  better 
perhaps  continue  to  give  you  the  facts  in 
order.  Chance  led  to  my  seeing  the  young 
man  in  question  as  he  was  leaving  the  house. 
I  recognised  your  son.  I  proceeded  to  make 
enquiries.  He  passes  as  a  medical  student, 
under  the  name  of  Roden.  The  girl  is — or 
was  —  a  hand  at  one  of  the  big  millinery 
establishments.  From  her  aflfectation  of  inno- 
cence and  simplicity,  the  woman  who  has 
most  opportunity  of  observing  her  is  inclined 
to  think  the  very  worst  of  her  ! " 

A  quick,  hissing  breath — an  unmistakeable 

H  2 


100  A  VALIANT   IGNORANCE 

breath  of  relief — parted  Mrs.  Komayne's  white 
lips.  She  had  sunk  down  again  in  her  chair 
and  was  grasping  it  now  with  both  hands 
as  she  leant  a  little  forward,  trembling  in 
every  limb. 

''  Then  it  is  not  likely — it  is  not  likely 
that  he  has  married  her,"  she  said,  in  a  low, 
rapid  tone  to  herself  rather  than  to  Falconer, 
as  it  seemed.     "  Go  on  !  " 

*'  There  is  very  little  more  to  be  said," 
returned  Falconer  icily.  "They have  occupied 
the  rooms — that  is  to  say,  the  girl  has  occupied 
them,  visited  every  day  by  your  son — for 
three  wrecks  now.  The  woman  has  discovered 
that  they  had  been  somewhere  in  the  country 
together  for  a  week  previously.  You  will,  of 
course,  be  able  to  recall  his  absence  from 
home.  Yesterday  he  took  her  away  into 
the  country  agaia ;  they  are  to  return  on 
Monday  !  " 

He  stopped ;  and  as  though  she  were 
no  longer  conscious  of  his  presence,  Mrs. 
Romayne's  head  was  bowed  slowly  lower, 
as  if  under  some  irresistible  weight,  until 
her  forehead  rested  on  her  hand,  stretched 
out  still  upon  the  arm  of  her  wide  chair. 


A  VALIANT  IGNORANCE  101 

She  lifted  her  face  at  last,  white  and 
haggard  as  twenty  added  years  of  life  should 
not  have  made  it,  and  rose,  helping  herself 
feebly  with  the  arm  of  her  chair,  like  a  woman 
whose  physical  strength  is  broken.  Falconer 
rose  also.  He  was  utterly  alienated  from  her ; 
he  was  conscious  of  only  the  most  distant 
pity,  but  he  felt  that  it  was  incumbent  on  him 
to  say  somethiog. 

"  I  regret  very  much  that  it  should  have 
fallen  to  my  lot  to  break  this  to  you  !  "  he 
said,    stiffly   and   awkwardly.     "I    fear   that 

coming   from    me "      He    hesitated    and 

paused. 

From  out  the  past,  confusing,  almost 
numbing  him,  a  vague  and  ghastly  influence 
had  risen  suddenly  upon  him  to  strain  that 
strange,  intangible,  and  awful  cord  of  common 
knowledge  by  which  he  and  the  woman  before 
him  were  bound  together,  revolt  against  it  or 
deny  its  presence  as  they  might.  Under  the 
touch  of  that  influence  his  last  words  had  come 
from  him  almost  involuntarily.  He  had  not 
known  whither  they  tended  ;  he  could  briag 
them  to  no  conclusion. 

Mrs.    Komayne   looked  him   in   the  eyes, 


102  A  VALIANT  IGNORANCE 

holding  now  to  a  tal)le  by  which  she  stood, 
but  with  no  weakness  in  her  ashen  face.  She 
seemed  to  be  concentrating  all  her  force  into 
one  final  repudiation  of  him.  She  ignored 
his  words  as  though  he  had  not  spoken. 

*'I  will  ask  you  to  leave  me  now!"  she 
said.  And  her  voice,  thin  and  toneless  though 
it  was,  left  her  completely  mistress  of  the 
situation. 

She  made  no  movement  to  shake  hands  ; 
he  hesitated  a  moment,  then  bowed  and  left 
the  room. 


CHAPTER  VI 

"  It's  a  jolly  little  place  enough  ! " 

''  I  think  it's  lovely." 

There  was  a  certain  tone  of  regret,  of 
lingering,  reluctant  farewell,  in  both  voices; 
though  in  Julian's  case  it  was  light  and 
patronising  ;  in  Clemence's,  dreamy  and  tender. 
As  Julian  spoke  he  shifted  his  position  slightly 
as  he  leant  against  the  iron  railing  by  which 
they  stood,  and  let  his  eyes  wander  over  the 
scene  before  them  with  condescending  ap- 
proval. 

They  were  standing  on  the  somewhat 
embryonic  *' sea-front"  of  what  a  few  years 
before  had  been  a  fishing  village,  and  was  now 
struggling,  rather  inefficiently,  to  become  a 
watering-place.  Such  season  as  the  place  could 
boast  was  entirely  confined  to  the  summer 
months ;  to  the  frequenters  of  winter  resorts 


104  A  VALIANT  IGNORANCE 

it  was  absolutely  unknown  ;  consequently 
its  intrinsic  charms  at  the  moment — in  all 
the  lassitude  and  monotony  left  by  de- 
parted glory — might  have  been  considered 
conspicuous  by  their  absence.  But  it  was 
a  glorious  winter's  day.  A  slight  sprinkling 
of  snow  had  been  frozen  on  the  roofs  of  the 
somewhat  depressed-looking  houses  and  on 
the  unsightliness  of  the  unfinished  sea-front ; 
and  brilliant  sunshine,  almost  warm  in  spite 
of  the  keen,  frosty  air,  was  glorifying  alike 
the  deserted  little  town,  the  country  be- 
yond, and  the  sparkling,  dancing  sea.  The 
frosty,  invigorating  brightness  found  a  respon- 
sive chord  in  Julian's  heart  this  morning ; 
he  was  not  always  so  susceptible  to  such 
simple,  natural  influences.  He  w^as  in  a  good 
humour  with  the  place  ;  he  had  spent  two 
wholly  satisfactory  days  there  —  two  days, 
moreover,  which  had  had  much  the  same  in- 
fluence upon  his  moral  tone  as  a  change 
to  bracing  air  and  simple,  wholesome  food 
would  have  on  a  physique  accustomed  to 
dissipation. 

His  survey  ended  finally  with  Clemence's 
face.     She  was  standing  at  his  side  looking 


A  VALIANT   IGNORANCE  105 

out  over  the  sea,  her  eyes  intent  and  full  of 
feeling,  her  beautiful  face  flushed  and  still, 
absorbed  by  the  mysterious  charm  of  the 
ceaseless  movement  and  trouble  of  the  bright 
water  stretching  away  before  her. 

"  What  are  you  looking  at,  Clemence  ? " 
he  said,  boyishly. 

She  lifted  her  eyes  to  his  quite  gravely 
and  simpl}^ 

*'  Only  the  sea,"  she  said.  "  It  is  so 
beautiful,  I  feel  as  if  I  never  could  leave  off 
lookinor  at  it.  It  makes  me  feel — oh,  I  can't 
tell  you,  but  it  is  like  something  great  ^nd 
strong  to  take  away  with  one  !  "  She  looked 
away  again.  "  Oh,  I  wish,  I  wish  we  need 
not  go  ! "  she  said  with  a  little  sigh. 

''  I  wish  we  needn't,"  returned  Julian ;  he 
had  been  dimly  conscious  of  something  in  her 
eyes  and  voice  which  made  her  previous 
words,  simple  as  they  seemed,  almost  unin- 
telligible to  him,  and  he  caught  at  her  last 
sentence  as  containing  an  idea  to  which  he 
could  respond.  "  It's  an  awful  nuisance, 
■isn't  it  ?  And  do  you  know  it  is  time  we 
started?  Never  mind.  We'll  come  down 
again  soon  ! " 


JOG  A  VALIANT  IGNORANCE 

They  stood  for  another  moment ;  Clemence 
looking  out  at  the  sunny  sea,  Julian  taking 
another  careless  comprehensive  view  of  the 
whole  scene  ;  and  then,  as  though  those  last 
looks  had  contained  their  respective  farewells, 
they  turned  with  one  accord  and  walked  away 
in  the  direction  of  the  railway  station.  And 
as  if  in  turning  her  back  upon  the  sunlit  sea 
she  had  turned  her  back  also  upon  something 
less  definite  and  tangible,  a  certain  gravity 
and  wistfulness  crept  gradually  over  Clemence's 
face  as  they  went ;  crept  over  it  to  settle 
down  into  a  sadness  most  unusual  to  it  as 
the  train  carried  them  quickly  away  towards 
London.  Julian,  sitting  opposite  her,  was 
vaguely  struck  by  her  expression. 

"  Are  you  awfully  sorry  to  go  back, 
Clemence  ?  "  he  said. 

She  started  slightly,  and  looked  at  him 
with  a  faint  smile. 

"  I  suppose  I  am !  "  she  said.  "  We  have 
been  very  happy,  haven't  we  ? "  There  was 
a  wistful  regret  in  her  voice  which  touched 
him  somehow,  and  he  answered  her  demon- 
stratively, with  a  cheery  and  enthusiastic 
augury    for    the    future.       Clemence    smiled 


A  VALIANT   IGNORANCE  107 

again  ;  again  rather  faintly.  *'  I  know  !  "  she 
said.  "I  mean  I  hope  so.  Only — I  don't 
know  what's  the  matter  with  me  !  I  feel  as 
if — something  were  finished  !  " 

Julian  broke  into  a  boyish  laugh.  Her 
depression  was  by  no  means  displeasing  to 
him  ;  it  was  a  tribute  to  his  importance,  to 
her  dependence  on  him ;  and  the  necessity 
for  ''cheering  her  up"  implied  the  exercise 
of  that  superiority  and  authority  in  which  he 
delighted. 

''  Why,  what  a  dear  little  goose  you  are, 
Clemence ! "  he  said,  leaning  forward  to  take 
her  hands  in  his.  "  A  *  Friday  to  Monday ' 
can't  last  for  ever,  you  know,  but  it  can  be 
repeated  again  and  again.  Why,  I  shall  be 
up  every  day — every  single  day,  I  promise 
you.  I  shouldn't  wonder  if  I  found  I  could 
spend  the  evening  with  you  to-morrow  I 
Won't  that  console  you  ? " 

She  did  not  answer  him,  but  she  took  one 
of  his  hands  in  hers  and  pressed  it  to  her 
cheek.  His  consolation  had  hardly  touched 
that  strange  oppression  which  weighed  upon 
her;  and  Julian,  in  high  feather,  and  quite 
unaware  that  only  his  voice  was  heard  by  her. 


108  A  VALIANT   IGNORANCE 

his  words  passing  her  by  unheeded,  had  been 
talking  at  great  length  about  all  the  happiness 
before  them,  when  she  said,  in  a  hesitating, 
far-away  voice  : 

"  Could  you — could  you  come  home  with 
me  this  afternoon  ?  " 

Julian  paused  a  moment.  The  question 
was  hardly  the  response  his  words  had  de- 
manded.    Then  he  said  decisively  : 

**  Quite  impossible,  I  am  sorry  to  say.  I 
would  if  I  could,  you  know,  dear,  but  it's 
quite  impossible ! " 

She  gave  his  hand  a  little  quick  pressure. 

"  I  know,  of  course  ! "  she  murmured 
gently.  She  paused  a  moment,  and  then  said 
in  a  low  voice,  rather  irrelevantlv  as  it  seemed : 
"Julian" — his  name  still  came  rather  hesi- 
tatingly from  her  lips — '^  do  you  think — do 
you  like  Mrs.  Jackson  ?  " 

Mrs.  Jackson  was  the  name  of  the  woman 
whose  rooms  Julian  had  taken  for  her,  and 
he  started  slightly  at  the  question. 

''  She's  not  a  bad  sort,"  he  said,  with  rather 
startled  consideration.  "  At  least,  she  seems 
all  right.  Isn't  she  nice  to  you,  Clemence  ? 
Don't  you  like  the  rooms  ?  " 


A  VALIANT   IGNORANCE  109 

"  Oh,  yes  !  yes  !  "  she  said  quickly,  ahnost 
as  though  she  reproached  herself  for  saying 
anything  that  could  suggest  to  him  even  a 
shadow  of  discontent  on  her  part.  "I  like 
them  so  very,  very  much.  It  is  only — I  don't 
kaow  what  exactly.  Somehow,  I  don't  think 
Mrs.  Jackson  is  quite  a  nice  woman."  She 
had  spoken  the  last  words  hesitatingly  and 
with  difficulty,  almost  as  though  they  came 
from  her  against  her  will. 

Julian  glanced  at  her  quickly. 

**  What  makes  you  think  that,  Clemence  ? " 
he  said,  with  judicial  masterfulness.  '^H^ve 
you  any  reason,  I  mean  ? " 

But  Clemence  was  hardly  able  to  defiae, 
even  in  her  own  pure  mind,  what  it  was  that 
jarred  upon  her  in  her  landlady's  manner ; 
and  to  Julian  she  was  utterly  unable  to  put 
her  feelings  into  words.  Her  hasty  disclaimer 
and  her  hesitating  beginnings  and  falterings, 
however,  served  to  remove  the  misaivinof 
which  had  stirred  him  lest  some  knowledo^e 
of  his  own  real  life  should  have  come  to  the 
w^oman's  knowledge.  He  was  the  readier  to 
let  himself  be  reassured  and  to  dismiss  the 
subject  in  that  the  train  was  slackening  sp3ed 


no  A  VALIANT   IGNORANCE 

for  the  last  time  before  reacliLDg  London,  and 
lie  intended  to  move  into  a  first-class  smoking 
carriage  at  the  approaching  station.  Julian 
was  well  aware  of  the  risks  of  discovery- 
involved  in  these  journeys  with  Clemence ; 
and  though  he  faced  them  nonchalantly 
enough,  he  used  wdts  with  which  no  one 
who  knew  him  only  in  his  capacities  of  man 
about  town  and  budding  barrister  would  have 
credited  him,  to  reduce  them  to  a  minimum. 
To  be  seen  emerging  from  a  third-class  carriage 
at  Victoria  Station  was  a  wholly  unnecessary 
risk  to  run,  and  he  avoided  it  accordingly. 

"You  mustn't  be  fanciful,  Clemmie,"  he 
said,  now  in  a  lordly  and  airy  fashion.  "  I've 
no  doubt  Mrs.  Jackson  is  a  very  jolly  woman, 
as  a  matter  of  fact.  Look  here,  dear,  would 
you  mind  if  I  went  and  had  a  smoke  now  ? 
It  isn't  much  further,  you  know,  and  one 
mustn't  smoke  in  hospital,  you  see  !  " 

Clemence  was  very  pale  when  he  joined 
her  on  the  platform  at  Victoria — ^joined  her  after 
a  quick  glance  round  to  see  whether  he  must 
prepare  himself  for  an  encounter  with  an  ac- 
quaintance ;  and  she  did  not  speak,  only  looked 
up  at  him  with  a  grave,  steady  smile  which 


A  VALIANT   IGNORANCE  111 

made  her  face  sadder  than  before.  His  an- 
nouncement of  his  intention  of  putting  her  into 
a  hansom  drew  from  her  an  absolutely  horrified 
protest.  She  would  go  in  an  omnibus,  she 
told  him  hurriedly,  or  in  the  Underground  ! 
She  had  never  been  in  a  cab  !  It  would  cost 
so  much  !  But  when  he  overruled  her,  a  little 
impatiently — it  was  not  yet  dark,  and  he  did 
not  wish  to  remain  longer  than  was  necessary 
with  her  in  Victoria  Station — she  submitted 
timidly,  with  a  sudden  slight  flushing  of  her 
cheeks. 

'^  A  four-wheeler,  Julian  I  "  she  murmured 
pleadingly,  as  they  emerged  into  the 
station  yard.  With  a  lofty  smile  at  what 
he  supposed  to  be  nervousness  on  her  part, 
he  signified  assent  with  a  little  condescend- 
ing gesture,  and  stopped  before  a  waiting 
cab. 

"  Here  you  are,"  he  said.     ''  Jump  in  !  " 

She  got  in  obediently,  and  as  he  shut 
the  door  she  turned  to  him  through  the  open 
window. 

'*  Good-bye,  Julian  !  "  she  said,  in  a  low, 
sweet  voice. 

'*  Good-bye !  "   he    said    cheerily,    smiling 


112  A  VALIANT  IGNORANCE 

at  lier.  Her  face  in  its  dingy  frame  looked 
whiter,  sweeter,  and  more  steadfast  than  ever, 
and  it  made  a  curiously  sudden  and  distinct 
impression  on  Julian's  mental  retina.  Then 
the  cab  turned  lumberingly  round,  and 
he  moved  smartly  away.  He  did  not  see 
that  as  the  cab  turned,  that  sweet,  white 
face  appeared  at  the  other  window  and 
followed  him  with  wide,  wistful  eyes 
until  the  moving  life  of  London  parted 
them. 

Julian  was  on  his  way  to  the  club.  He 
had  a  vao^ue  disinclination  to  the  thouo^ht  of 
going  home  ;  the  house  in  Chelsea  was  always 
more  or  less  distasteful  to  him  now,  and  he 
had  no  intention  of  going  thither  before  it 
was  necessary.  It  was  nearly  dark  by  the 
time  his  destination  was  reached,  and  as  his 
hansom  drew  up  a  few  yards  from  the  club 
entrance  he  could  only  see  that  the  way 
was  stopped  by  a  carriage  from  which  two 
ladies  and  a  gentleman  had  just  emerged.  It 
was  the  younger  of  the  two  ladies  who  glanced 
in  his  direction,  and  said,  in  a  pretty,  un- 
interested voice  : 

''  Isn't  that  Mr.  Eomayne  ?  " 


A  VALIANT   IGNORANCE  113 

Marston  Loring  was  the  man  addressed, 
and  he  shot  a  keen,  considering  glance  at  the 
speaker — Miss  Pomeroy.  The  fact  that  her 
eyes  had  noticed  Julian  when  his  quick  ones 
had  not,  trivial  as  it  was,  was  not  without  its 
significance  to  the  man  whose  stock-in-trade, 
so  to  speak,  was  founded  on  clever  estimate 
and  appreciation  of  trifles.  Was  Miss  Pomeroy 
not  so  entirely  unobservant  a  nonentity  as 
she  was  supposed  to  be,  he  asked  him- 
self, not  for  the  first  time ;  or  was  there 
another  reason  for  her  quickness  in  this 
instance  ? 

"  So  it  is  !  "  he  said.     ''  Hullo,  old  fellow  !  " 

Julian  came  eagerly  up  to  the  group  as  it 
paused  for  him  on  the  club  steps,  and  shook 
hands  in  his  pleasantest  manner  with  Mrs. 
Pomeroy. 

"  I  do  believe  it's  a  ladies'  afternoon !  "  he 
exclaimed  gaily.  '*  What  luck  for  me ! 
How  do  you  do  ? "  shaking  hands  with  Miss 
Pomeroy.  "I'd  actually  forgotten  all  about 
it,  and  I've  only  just  come  up  from  Brighton  ! 
Loring,  you  must  ask  me  to  join  your 
party,  old  man !  Tell  him  so,  Miss  Pomeroy, 
please !  " 

VOL.  II  I 


114  A  VALIANT   IGNORANCE 

Whether  strict  veracity  is  to  he  imputed 
to  a  young  man  who  professes  unbounded 
satisfiiction  at  finding  fashionable  "ladies' 
teas  "in  full  swing  at  his  club  when  he  has 
just  come  off  a  journey  is  perhaps  doubtful  ; 
but  Julian  threw  himself  into  the  spirit  of  the 
moment  with  a  frank  gaiety  and  enthusiasm 
which  was  not  to  be  surpassed.  The  greater 
number  of  the  ladies  who  were  sipping  club 
tea  as  if  it  were  a  hitherto  untasted  nectar,  and 
g-azinsr  at  club  furniture  as  thouo^h  it  were 
provision  for  the  comfort  of  some  strange 
animal,  were  acquaintances  of  his  ;  and  as  he 
moved  about  among  them  his  passage  seemed 
to  be  marked  by  merrier  laughs,  a  quicker  fire 
of  the  jokes  of  the  moment,  and  brighter  faces 
than  prevailed  elsewhere.  He  was  enjoying 
himself  so  thoroughly,  apparently,  that  he  was 
unable  to  tear  himself  away,  and  when  he  left 
the  club  at  last,  he  sprang  into  a  hansom,  and 
told  the  driver  to  "  put  the  horse  along."  He 
and  his  mother  were  dining  out  together,  and 
he  had  left  himself  barely  sufficient  time  to 
dress. 

He  ran  up  the  steps,  flinging  the  driver 
his  fare,  let  himself  in  with  his  latchkey,  and 


A  VALIANT  IGNORANCE  115 

proceeded  to  his  room  up  two  steps  at  a  time. 
When  he  emerged  thence,  twenty  minutes 
later,  in  evening  dress,  he  was  congratulating 
himself  on  having  "  done  the  trick  capitally, 
and  well  up  to  time." 

He  was  a  little  surprised,  therefore,  as 
he  came  downstairs,  to  find  his  mother's  maid 
waiting  for  him  outside  the  drawing-room  door 
with  the  information  that  Mrs.  Eomayne  was 
already  in  the  carriage ;  and  he  ran  hastily 
downstairs,  put  on  his  overcoat,  and  proceeded 
to  join  her. 

"I'm  awfully  sorry,  dear,"  he  said,  wi4h 
eager  apology.  ''I  thought  it  was  earlier. 
The  fact  is,  I  was  awfully  late  getting  in.  I 
found  *  ladies'  teas  '  going  on  at  the  club — so 
awfully  stupid  of  me  to  forget — you  might 
have  liked  to  go — and  it  was  rather  good  fun. 
How  are  you,  dear  ?  " 

He  had  let  himself  into  the  brougham  as 
he  spoke,  had  shut  the  door,  and  seated  him- 
self by  the  figure  he  could  only  dimly  see 
sitting  rather  back  in  the  corner  so  that  little 
or  no  light  fell  on  the  face.  He  had  kissed 
his  mother,  hardly  stemming  the  flood  of  his 
eloquence  for  the  purpose  ;  and  he  now  hardly 

I  2 


116  A  VALIANT  IGNORANCE 

waited  for  her  word  or  two  of  reply  before  he 
plunged  once  more  into  eager,  amusing  talk. 
He  did  not  give  his  mother  time  to  do  more 
than  answer  monosyllabically,  and  it  followed 
that  her  silence  did  not  strike  him.  He  sprang 
out,  when  the  carriage  stopped,  to  give  her  his 
hand,  but  before  he  had  given  his  instructions 
to  the  coachman,  and  followed  her  into  the 
house,  she  had  disappeared  into  the  ladies' 
cloak-room.  Consequently  it  was  not  until 
she  came  to  him  as  he  waited  to  follow  her 
into  the  drawing-room  that  he  really  saw  her. 
As  his  eyes  rested  on  the  figure  coming 
towards  him,  he  suddenly  saw,  not  it,  but  a 
sweet,  white  face  with  wistful  eyes  looking  at 
him  from  out  of  a  dingy  frame. 


CHAPTER  VII 

Always  excellently  dressed,  Mrs.  Romayne's 
appearance  at  that  moment  was  brilliant ; 
almost  excessively  brilliant  it  seemed  for  a 
small  dinner-party.  Her  frock  was  of  the  most 
pronounced  type  of  full-dress,  and  she  wpre 
diamonds  ;  not  many,  but  so  disposed,  as  was 
her  reddish-brown  hair,  as  to  make  the  greatest 
possible  effect.  But  the  detail  which  had 
caught  her  son's  experienced  eye,  and  which 
had  brought  before  him  by  some  unaccount- 
able law  of  contrast  that  other  woman's  face, 
lay  in  the  fact  that  to-night  for  the  first  time 
his  mother  was  slightly  ''made  up."  The 
colour  on  her  cheeks,  the  bright  effectiveness 
of  her  eyes,  was  the  result  of  art.  It  made 
her  look  haggard,  Julian  decided  with  careless, 
indifferent  distaste  ;  and  then  he  was  following 
her  into  the  room. 


118  A  VALIANT  IGNORANCE 

She  had  hardly  paused  to  speak  to  him ; 
apparently  she  imagined  that  they  were  late. 

They  were  widely  separated  at  dinner,  and 
were  not  thrown  together,  as  it  happened, 
during  the  whole  evening.  But  Mrs.  Romayne's 
personality  was  a  factor  in  the  party  not  to  be 
•ignored  that  night;  she  was  delightful,  every- 
body said.  It  was  a  very  select  little  dinner, 
and  society  romps  went  on  afterwards ;  romps 
to  which  Mrs.  Romayne  contributed  her  full 
share.  And  to  Julian  that  newly  acquired  sense 
of  his  mother's  artificiality  was  accentuated 
as  the  evening  passed  on  into  something  like 
repugnance;  a  repugnance  which,  when  he  was 
seated  with  her  at  last  in  the  brougham  and 
driving  home,  produced  in  him  a  strong  dis- 
inclination to  rouse  himself  to  an  assumption  of 
vivacity,  and  made  him  occupy  himself  with 
his  own  thoughts  so  exclusively  that  he  never 
noticed  that  his  mother  uttered  not  a  single 
word. 

*'  Good  night,  mother  !  "  he  said  absently, 
as  they  stood  together  in  the  hall.  He  was 
stooping  to  kiss  her  when  she  stopped  him  with 
a  slight,  peremptory  gesture. 

"  I  want  to  speak  to  you  !  "  she  said.    Her 


A  VALIANT   IGNORANCE  II9 

voice  was  tense  and  a  little  hoarse.  "Without 
another  word,  without  so  much  as  orlancincr 
at  him,  she  passed  him  and  led  the  way  to 
his  smoking-room ;  turned  up  the  lamp  with 
a  quick,  hard  gesture,  and  then  turned  and 
faced  him. 

All  the  colour  had  faded  from  Julian's  face, 
and  he  had  followed  her  slowly.  With  the 
first  sound  of  her  voice  the  conviction  had 
come  to  him  that  he  was  discovered.  There 
were  certain  weaknesses  in  him  hitherto  un- 
developed by  the  circumstances  of  his  life,  but 
radical  factors  in  his  character.  Morally 
speaking  he  was  a  coward.  His  hour  had 
come,  and  he  was  afraid  to  meet  it.  He  came 
just  inside  the  door  and  stood  leaning  against 
the  writing-table,  confronting  his  mother,  but 
neither  looking  at  her  nor  speaking. 

''Tell  me  where  you  have  been  since 
Friday  1 "  she  said,  low  and  peremptorily  ; 
and  then  she  stopped  herself  abruptly,  putting- 
out  her  hand  as  though  to  prevent  him  from 
speaking,  as  a  spasm  of  pain  distorted  her  face. 
"  No ! "  she  said  in  a  hoarse,  breathless  way. 
''  No,  don't !  You'll  tell  me  a  lie.  Don't !  I 
know  ! " 


120  A  VALIANT   IGNORANX'E 

She  had  put  out  her  hand  aud  was 
steadying  herself  by  the  high  oak  mantelpiece 
— part  of  her  recent  present  to  Julian — but 
her  face  was  rigid  and  set,  and  her  eyes,  full 
of  a  strange,  indefinable  agony,  which  she 
seemed  to  be  all  the  while  holding  desperately 
at  bay,  never  left  the  pale,  downcast,  almost 
sullen  face  opposite  her. 

AVith  a  determined  wrench  and  setting  in 
motion  of  all  his  faculties,  Julian  pulled 
himself  together  so  far  as  to  take  refuge  in 
that  sure  resort  of  the  deficient  in  moral 
courage — an  assumption  of  jaunty  and  light- 
hearted  non-comprehension.  Perhaps  he  had 
never  in  his  life  been  more  like  his  mother 
than  he  w^as  at  that  moment  as  he  threw  back 
his  head  and  answered,  with  an  afi'ected  gaiety 
which  was  somewhat  hollow  and  unsuccessful  : 

^'  What  do  you  know,  dear  ?  You're 
coming  it  rather  strong,  aren't  you  ?  " 

**  I  know  that  you  have  been  living  with  a 
common  work-girl  somewhere  in  Camden  Town 
for  a  month  or  more  1 " 

The  words  were  spoken  in  the  same  hoarse 
voice  which  rang  now,  low  as  it  was,  with  an 
intolerable     disgust.       But     its     expression 


A  VALIANT   IGNOEANCE  121 

seemed  to  affect  Julian  not  at  all.  The  words 
themselves  were  occupying  all  his  perception. 
A  quick  frown  of  consideration  appeared  on 
his  forehead,  as  though  some  relief  or  reprieve 
had  come  to  him,  bringing  with  it  possibilities 
the  skilful  turning  to  account  of  which  called 
into  play  his  mental  faculties,  and  in  so  doing 
strung  up  his  nerve.  He  dropped  his 
artificiality  of  manner,  and  seemed  to  brace 
himself  to  meet  the  emergency  in  which  he 
found  himself  The  situation  had  evidently 
suddenly  altered  its  character  for  him.  He 
was  no  longer  cowed  by  it. 

There  was  a  pause — a  pause  in  which  Mrs. 
Eomayne's  eyes  seemed  to  dilate  and  contract, 
and  dilate  ag^ain  under  the  sufferinor  to  which  she 
allowed  expression  in  neither  tone  nor  gesture ; 
and  then  there  came  from  Julian  four  awk- 
ward, hardly  audible  words,  jerked  out  rather 
than  spoken,  with  long  pauses  intervening  : 

"  How  do  you  know  ?  " 

A  short,  sharp  breath  came  from  Mrs. 
Romayne,  and  then  she  said,  with  cold 
decisiveness,  though  it  seemed  that  nothing 
would  take  that  hoarseness  from  her  voice  : 

"  It  matters  very  little  how  I  kuow.     That 


122  A  VALIANT  IGNORANCE 

I  know  by  one  chance ;  that  some  one  else 
may  know  by  another ;  some  one  else  again 
by  another — the  details  in  each  case,  when 
the  chances  are  innumerable,  are  nothing ! 
Have  you  lived  all  this  time  in  London  not 
to  know  that  discovery  is  inevitable — to 
wonder  '  how  '  when  it  comes  ? " 

There  was  a  bitterness,  a  keenness  of 
scorn  in  her  voice  w^hich  stung  him  like  a  lash, 
and  he  answered  hotly  : 

''After  all,  mother,  we  are  not  living  in 
Arcadia  !  "We  don't  talk  about  these  things, 
and  I'm  awfully  sorry,  I'm  sure,  that  this 
should  have  come  to  your  knowledge;  I'm 
awfully  sorry  to  oflfend  you.  But,  hang  it  all, 
I'm  not  worse  than  lots  of  fellows  about !  " 

His  tone  had  gathered  confidence  and 
defiance  as  he  went  on,  and  it  seemed  to 
shake  her  a  little.  Her  hold  on  the  mantel- 
piece tightened,  and  she  spoke  quickly  and 
rather  nervously. 

''It's  very  likely,"  she  said.  '^  don't 
want  to  argue  the  principle  with  you.  Young 
men  have  their  own  ideas,  I  know ;  but  how 
many  young  men — drop  out  ?  How  many 
young  men,  with  good  positions,  good  chances, 


A  VALIANT  IGNORANCE  123 

somehow  or  other  get  into  bad  odour  ;  get 
to  be  not  received — or,  if  they  are  received,  it 
is  with  certain  reservations — through  this  kind 
of  thing?  Oh,  of  course  I  don't  say  it's 
inevitable.  There  are  lots  of  men  about,  as 
you  say  !  But  it's  an  awful  risk.  In  the  case 
of  a  young  man  like  you,  with  no  title  to  the 
position  you  hold  in  society  but  your — your 
personality,  don't  you  see,  it  is  a  double  and 
treble  risk.  It  is  playing  with  edged  tools  ; 
it  is  holding  a  knife  to  your  own  throat.  You 
would  go  under  so  horribly  easily." 

She  paused  abruptly,  as  though  the  image 
before  her  eyes  were  too  terrible  to  her  to  be 
pursued  further,  and  tried  to  moisten  her  dry 
lips,  on  which  the  touch  of  paint  had  cracked 
now,  showing  how  white  they  were  beneath. 
The  ghastliness  of  the  incongruity  between 
her  manner  and  the  superficialities  of  which 
she  spoke  was  indescribable.  Julian  did  not 
speak ;  he  was  moving  one  foot  to  and  fro 
slowly  over  the  carpet,  at  which  he  gazed  im- 
movably, and  his  mother  went  on  almost 
immediately : 

'*You  must  give  it  up,  Julian,"  she  said 
incisively.       ''  I   will    do    anything    that    is 


124  A  VALIANT  IGNORANCE 

necessary  in  the  way  of  money  ;  I  don't  want 
to  be  hard  upon  yon.  Anything  the  girl 
wants  you  shall  have  ;  but  you  must  break 
with  her  at  once." 

She  paused  again,  but  still  Julian  did  not 
speak  ;  still  he  did  not  raise  his  eyes.  She 
went  on  with  a  growing  insistence  in  her  voice 
which  went  hand  in  hand  with  a  growing 
agony  of  appeal : 

"  If  you  don't  see  the  necessity  now,  you 
must  believe  me  when  I  tell  you  that  you 
will — you  will.  Look,  dear  !  your  life  is  surely 
not  so  dull  that  you  need  run  after  such 
distraction  as  that !  You  shall  marry  if  you 
want  to.  You  shall  marry  any  one  you  like. 
But   you   must  —  you    must    give    this    up. 

Julian "     She  stopped  for  a  moment,  and 

her  voice  grew  thin,  almost  faint,  as  she 
pressed  so  heavily  on  the  carving  by  which 
she  held  that  her  hand  was  bruised  and 
blackened.  "  Julian,  I  am  not  telling  you 
what  it  has  been  to  me  to  know  that  you  have 
deceived  me.  I  am  not  going  to  try  and 
make  you  feel — I  don't  want  you  to  feel  it, 
dear — what  it  has  been  to  me  to  go  over  your 
home-life  of  the  last  few  weeks  and  know  that 


A  VALIANT   IGNORANCE  125 

you  have  lied  to  me  at  every  turn — to  me, 
who  have  only  wanted  to  make  you  happy.  I 
won't   reproach    you.     Perhaps    young    men 

think  it  a  kind  of  right — a  kind  of  right " 

She  repeated  the  sentence,  UDfioished  as  it 
was,  as  though  it  contained  an  idea  to  which 
she  clung.  "It  is  not  for  my  sake — to  spare 
my  feelings,  that  I  tell  you  you  must  give  it 
up.  It  is  for  your  own.  Julian,  my  boy, 
you  must  believe  me." 

Her  words,  quivering  with  entreaty,  died 
away ;  her  eyes,  full  of  supplication,  were 
fixed  on  his  ;  and  Julian  spoke — spoke  without 
lifting  his  eyes  from  the  ground. 

**  Suppose  I  married  her  ? "  he  said  in  a 
low,  shamefaced  voice. 

"What!"  The  monosyllable  rang  out 
sharp  and  vibrating,  and  Mrs.  Romayne,  all 
softness  or  relaxation  struck  from  her  face  and 
figure  in  one  sudden  bracing  of  every  muscle, 
stood  stariog  at  him  out  of  eyes  alive  with 
horror. 

*'  Suppose — I  married — her  !  " 

"  Supposing  that — I  will  tell  you  I  You 
would  have  to  keep  her  and  yourself!  You 
would  have   no  more  of  my  money,  and  you 


126  A  VALIANT  IGNORANCE 

would  never  be  acknowledged  in  my  house 
again  ! "  Her  low  voice  was  like  fine,  cold 
steel,  and  slie  paused.  Then  quite  suddenly, 
as  though  the  horror  kept  at  bay  in  her  eyes 
had  leapt  up  and  mastered  her  in  an  instant, 
she  flung  out  her  hands  wildly,  crying : 
"Julian,  Julian!  You  are  not  married? 
Tell  me,  tell  me  you  are  not  married  ? " 

And  Julian,  white  to  the  very  lips,  said 
low  and  hurriedly  : 

"  No ! " 

There  was  a  long  silence.  With  a  choked, 
hysterical  cry,  Mrs.  Romayne  dropped  into 
a  chair  near  her,  and  covered  her  face  with 
her  hands.  Julian  drew  out  his  pocket-hand- 
kerchief and  mechanically  wiped  his  forehead. 
At  last  he  began,  in  a  nervous,  uneven  voice  : 

**  Mother,  look  here,  I — you  don't  quite 
understand  me  !  I — she — it's — it's  not  the 
kind  of  girl  you  think  ! "  He  stopped  and 
drew  his  hand  desperately  before  his  eyes. 
That  innocent,  white  face,  in  its  dingy  frame, 
what  did  it  want  before  his  eyes  now  ?  How 
could  he  get  on  if  he  kept  looking  at  it  ? 
"  She — we — it  was  my  f\iult !  Mother,  look 
here,  1  ought !  " 


A  VALIANT   IGNORANCE  127 

Mrs.  Komayne  took  her  hands  away 
from  her  face  and  clenched  them  together. 

"  You  shall  not,"  she  said  in  a  low,  steady 
voice. 

**She — she — was  an  awfully  good  girl, 
don't  you  know.  She's  not — of  course  she's 
not  one  of  our  sort,  but — she  would  learn. 
Mother,  after  all,  why  not  ?  Nothing  else 
can — can  make  it  right !  " 

*'  Nothing  else  can  ruin  you  completely  !  " 
was  the  steady  answer.  "  You  shall  never  do 
it  if  I  can  prevent  it.  I  have  told  you  what  I 
would  do ;  think  it  well  over.  Think  what 
it  would  mean  to  you  to  have  not  one  farthing 
but  what  you  can  earn  !  To  be  cut  by  every 
one  who  knows  you  !  To  be  without  a  chance 
of  any  kind !  I  told  you  that  if  you 
married  I  would  disown  you !  Now  I  tell 
you  something  else  !  Break  off  this  miserable 
connection  and  you  shall  have,  as  I  said, 
anything  in  reason  to  give  the  girl  in  com- 
pensation once  and  for  all.  Eefuse  to  do  so 
and  I  will  cut  oflf  your  allowance  until  you 
come  to  your  senses  !  " 

'^Mother!''     he     cried     fiercely.      ''By 
Heaven,  mother  ! " 


128  A  VALIANT   IGNORANCE 

**  You  can  take  your  choice  ! "  was  the 
unmoved  answer. 

Her  face  was  sharp  and  haggard ;  the 
artificial  colour  stood  out  on  it  in  great  patches, 
throwing  into  relief  the  vivid  pallor  beneath. 
She  had  thrown  aside  her  cloak  as  though  the 
physical  oppression  was  unbearable  to  her, 
and  the  contrast  between  her  face  and  her 
ororo^eous  dress  with  its  orlitterinoj  ornaments 
was  horrible. 

A  smothered  oath  broke  from  the  youDg 
man,  and  lifting  his  right  hand,  he  began  to 
rub  it  slowly  up  and  down  the  back  of  his 
head  as  an  expression  of  heavy,  fierce 
cogitation  settled  down  upon  his  face.  To 
his  unutterable  surprise,  as  he  made  the 
gesture,  there  stole  over  his  mother's  face  an 
expression  of  such  deadly  terror  as  he  had 
never  before  seen.  He  stopped  involuntarily, 
and  she  staggered  to  her  feet,  holding  out 
two  quivering,  imploring  hands.  For  the 
first  time  in  his  life  Julian  was  using  a  gesture 
habitual  in  his  dead  father ;  for  the  first  time 
in  his  life,  looking  into  her  son's  face,  Mrs. 
Romayne  saw  there  the  face  of  William 
Romayne. 


A  VALIANT  IGNORANCE  129 

*^  My  boy  !  "  she  gasped.  "  My  boy.  Don't 
do  that !  Don't  look  like  that,  for  Heaven's 
sake  !     For  Heaven's  sake  !  " 

She  swayed  for  a  moment  to  and  fro,  and 
then  fell  heavily  forward  into  his  arms. 


VOL.  II 


CHAPTER  VIII 

A  BITTER  east  wind,  whicli  was  taking  suffi- 
ciently depressing  effect  upon  all  London, 
was  dealing  with  peculiar  grimness  with  Red- 
burn  Street,  Camden  Town.  The  neat  little 
houses  in  that  dreary  grey  dryness  looked 
sordidly  wretched ;  there  was  something  de- 
serted and  hopeless  about  them.  No  one  was 
to  be  seen,  except  that  at  a  first-floor  window 
about  half-way  down  a  woman's  figure  was 
standing ;  and  as  Dennis  Falconer  turned  into 
the  street  his  footsteps  rang  with  heavy 
distinctness  on  the  glaring  pavement.  He 
strode  slowly  and  steadily  along,  and  his 
solitary  figure,  as  it  stood  out  with  that 
peculiar  sharpness  of  outline  which  is  a  charac- 
teristic production  of  east  wind,  harmonised 
absolutely  with  the  sombreness  of  the  back- 
ground. His  face  was  full  of  sombre  purpose, 
grave  and  stern. 


A  VALIANT  IGNORANCE  131 

It  was  about  three  o'clock  in  the  afternoon 
of  Wednesday — two  days  after  Julian's  return 
home.  On  the  morning  of  the  preceding 
day  Julian  and  his  mother  had  had  a  second 
interview,  which  had  ended  in  his  giving  a 
sullen  and  reluctant  assent  to  her  demands  ; 
and  in  the  evening  Dennis  Falconer  had  re- 
ceived from  Mrs.  Eomayne  a  brief,  almost 
peremptory  note,  begging  him  to  come  to 
her.  He  had  gone  to  Queen  Anne  Street 
accordingly,  severely  unsympathetic,  but 
also  severely  reliable,  early  on  Wednesday 
morning. 

He  had  found  Mrs.  Eomayne  in  a  feverish 
agony  of  agitation  beyond  even  the  power  of 
her  will  to  conceal  or  wholly  to  control.  Her 
voice,  painfully  thin  and  sharp  ;  her  gestures 
restless,  nervous,  irritable ;  her  utterance  hard 
and  rapid ;  had  all  testified  to  a  strained, 
tense  excitement  before  which  all  her  arti- 
ficiality was  utterly  submerged,  and  in  which 
Falconer  himself  was  obviously  regarded  by 
her  solely  as  the  one  instrument  at  hand  to 
her  necessity.  Her  whole  soul  seemed  to  be 
set  upon  the  immediate  termination  of  "  the 
affair,"    as   she   called    it.      It    afiected    her 

K  2 


132  A  VALIANT  IGNORANCE 

evidently  in  only  one  way,  she  looked  at  it 
from  only  one  point  of  view  :  as  something 
to  be  finished  up,  put  away,  buried  out  of 
sight.  It  was  the  thought  of  delay  in  the  doing 
of  this,  only,  that  appeared  to  torture  her  ;  of 
the  affiiir  itself  with  all  its  terrible  significance, 
its  inevitable  consequences,  she  had,  as  far 
as  Falconer  could  divine,  no  adequate  con- 
ception. The  girl  must  be  bought  off ;  must 
be  sent  away  ;  must  be  sent  right  out  of  the 
country,  in  case  —  and  here  came  the  one 
agonised  sense  of  a  possible  consequence  which 
Falconer  could  detect — in  case  Julian  should 
marry  her  after  all ! 

It  was  evidently  the  haunting  terror  of 
such  a  contingency  which  had  driven  her  to 
send  for  Falconer.  It  was  obvious,  though 
she  seemed  to  be  striving  hard  to  conceal  it 
even  from  herself,  that  she  could  not  trust 
her  son  ;  that  she  could  find  no  rest  in  the 
promise  she  had  wrung  from  him.  What  she 
had  to  say  to  Falconer  was,  in  effect,  that 
some  one  else  must  see  the  girl ;  the  arrange- 
ment to  be  surely  effected  must  be  brought 
about  by  a  third  person  who  would  set  about 
the  business  promptly  and  act  decidedly.     It 


A  VALIANT   IC4N0EANCE  133 

was  this  service  which  she  wanted  of  Falconer, 
and  Falconer,  after  a  moment's  grave  self- 
communing,  agreed  to  render  it.  He  was  as 
far  removed  from  sympathy  with  her  in  this 
her  hard,  agonised  reality  as  he  had  been  from 
the  artificial  woman  of  the  previous  months, 
or  from  the  real  woman  of  eighteen  years 
before.  He  considered  her  point  of  view  in 
the  present  instance  absolutely  revolting  in 
her.  But  no  man  could  question  the  practical 
sense  of  what  she  said,  or  the  advisability  of 
the  course  she  proposed,  and  his  conception 
of  his  obligations  as  her  sole  male  relati\5e 
and  trustee  was  too  intimately  intertwined 
with  his  sense  of  duty  and  self-respect  to  allow 
him  to  entertain,  even  for  a  moment,  the 
possibility  of  refusing  to  act  for  her.  He  had 
stood  by  her  side,  impelled  by  that  sense 
of  duty,  gravely  reliable,  and  unsympathetic, 
eighteen  years  before.  The  irony  of  fate 
decreed  that  it  was  for  him,  and  for  him  only, 
to  act  for  her  now.  To  him  it  was  simply 
the  stern  dictate  of  moral  necessity  to  be 
obeyed  as  such. 

Accordingly  he  had  received  her  instruc- 
tions, offering  now  and  again  a  grim,  practical 


134  A  VALIANT  IGNORANCE 

suggestion,  with  a  stern  air  of  businesslike 
reserve  ;  had  undertaken — being  at  the  bottom 
of  her  opinion  as  to  the  desirability  of  instant 
measures — to  see  *'  the  girl "  that  same  after- 
noon ;  and  he  was  walking  down  Kedburn 
Street  now,  in  the  pitiless  east  wind,  to  carry 
that  undertaking  into  eflfect. 

He  reached  the  house,  knocked,  and  asked 
briefly  for  Mrs.  Koden.  The  landlady,  whose 
sentiments  towards  her  lodgers  had  developed 
rapidly  in  consequence  of  the  enquiries  which 
Falconer  had  felt  it  his  duty  to  make,  received 
his  words  with  a  sniff  expressive  of  contempt ; 
and  then  informed  him,  with  a  stare  of 
insolent  curiosity,  that  "  she "  was  "  hup- 
stairs,"  and  led  the  way  thither;  evidently 
urged  to  that  act  of  civility  solely  by  a  hope 
of  finding  out  something.  She  was  a  coarse, 
vulgar-looking  woman,  with  small  red  eyes, 
which  glittered  expectantly  as  she  flung  the 
door  open  and  announced,  in  a  loud  and 
denunciatory  voice,  *'  'Ere's  a  gentleman  !  " 

But  if  she  had  hoped  for  startling  reve- 
lations she  was  disappointed.  Dennis  Falconer 
advanced  into  the  room  with  stern  composure ; 
the  figure  in  the  window  turned  quickly  but 


A  VALIANT  IGNORANCE  135 

quietly  to  meet  him  ;  and  Mrs.  Jackson  was 
obliged  to  shut  the  door  upon  the  two. 

Clemence  was  looking  very  pale.  The 
vague  shadow  which  had  fallen  upon  her  as 
she  journeyed  up  to  London  two  days  before 
had  deepened  into  a  wistful,  questioning 
sadness.  She  had  not  seen  Julian  since  she 
parted  from  him  at  Victoria  Station.  On  the 
previous  day  she  had  received  a  note  from  him 
which  told  her  that  *'  work  "  kept  him  from 
her  for  that  day,  but  that  he  would  come  as 
soon  as  he  was  able.     There  was  nothing  to 

distress  or  alarm  her  in  the  fact  itself;  more 

• 

than  once  before  a  similar  disappointment 
had  come  to  her ;  and  even  though  the  second 
day  brought  her  no  letter,  the  blank  merely 
meant,  as  she  assured  herself  hour  by  hour, 
that  she  would  see  him  before  the  day  was 
done.  But  strive  against  it  as  she  might, 
and  did,  she  had  spent  the  past  twenty-four 
hours  weighed  down  by  a  sense  of  trouble 
utterly  undefined ;  utterly,  as  it  seemed  to 
her,  without  reason.  She  had  borne  her 
burden  with  mute  patience,  reproaching  herself 
as  for  ingratitude  and  an  inordinate  desire  for 
active  happiness,  and   struggling   bravely  to 


136  A  VALIANT   IGNORANCE 

conquer  it ;  but  neither  arguing  about  it  nor 
denying  it,  as  a  less  simple  and  straightforward 
nature  would  have  done.  And  now  the  ap- 
pearance of  Falconer  seemed  suddenly  to 
focus  and  define  her  vague  distress.  The 
sudden  conviction  that  Julian  was  ill,  and 
that  this  gentleman  had  come  from  him  to 
tell  her  so,  held  her  still  and  silent  in  a  pang 
of  cruel  realisation  and  anticipation. 

The  light,  as  she  moved,  had  fallen  full 
upon  her  face,  and  as  he  saw  it  a  certain 
shock  passed  through  Dennis  Falconer.  He 
had  seen  her  figure,  and  even  her  face  in  the 
distance  more  than  once,  but  he  had  never 
before  seen  it  with  any  distinctness,  and  for 
the  first  instant  the  simplicity  and  purity  of 
its  beauty,  with  the  expression  deepened  by 
the  strange  shadow  through  which  the  past 
two  days  had  led  her,  clashed  almost  painfully 
with  that  idea  of  "  the  girl  "  which  had  grown, 
during  his  conversation  with  Mrs.  Romayne, 
into  a  kind  of  fact  for  him.  The  next  moment, 
however,  he  had  reconciled  appearances  and 
realities,  as  he  conceived  them,  with  the  grim 
reflection  that  there  is  no  vice  so  vicious  as 
that  which  wears  an  innocent  face :    and  in 


A  VALIANT  IGNORANCE  137 

doing  so  had  quenched  what  might  have 
been  perception  beneath  a  weight  of  narrow 
truism. 

No  greeting  of  any  kind  passed  between 
them.  All  Clemence's  faculties  were  absorbed 
in  her  dread.  Falconer  was  busied  with  the 
process  of  reconciliation.  The  strange  little 
silence  was  broken  eventually  by  Falconer, 
and  he  spoke  with  the  unbending  sternness 
and  distance  which  that  process  and  its  con- 
clusion had  naturally  accentuated. 

"  I  am  here  as  the  representative  of  Julian 
Koden's  nearest  relative  and  guardian,"  Jie 
said.  It  had  been  arranged  between  himself 
and  Mrs.  Romayne,  on  the  suggestion  of  the 
latter,  that  "  the  girl,"  if  she  did  not  already 
know  it,  should  be  kept  in  ignorance  of 
Julian's  real  name. 

The  statement  was  slightly  over-coloured, 
since  Julian  was  of  age,  and  his  mother  was 
no  longer  his  guardian  in  any  legal  sense ; 
but  to  stern  moralists  of  Falconer's  type,  to 
whom  the  pretty  little  falsenesses  of  life  are 
wholly  to  be  condemned,  a  slight  misstatement 
in  such  a  case  is  frequently  permissible.  The 
brief,  uncompromising  words  had  seemed  to 


138  A  VALIANT  IGNORANCE 

him  to  set  the  key  of  the  interview  beyond 
mistake.  He  was  consequently  slightly  taken 
aback  by  their  eflfect. 

Every  trace  of  colour  died  out  of  Cle- 
mence's  face,  and  two  great  dilated  eyes 
gazed  at  him  for  an  instant  in  dumb  agony 
before  she  whispered  : 

"  He's  not— dead  ?  " 

Falconer  made  a  slight,  almost  contemp- 
tuous, negative  gesture.  He  had  no  intention 
of  being  imposed  upon  by  theatrical  arts, 
and  as  Clemence,  her  self-control  shattered 
by  the  sudden  relief,  turned  instinctively 
away,  and  pressed  her  face  down  on  the  arm 
with  which  she  had  caught  at  the  curtain 
for  support,  he  went  on  with  immoveable 
sternness  : 

''  My  business  has  to  do  with  his  life, 
not  his  death.  The  main  point  is  very  simple, 
and  I  will  put  it  to  you  at  once.  Absolute 
ruin  lies  before  him.  Is  he  or  is  he  not  to 
embrace  it  ? " 

He  saw  her  start,  and  she  lifted  her  face 
quickly,  and  turned  it  to  him  all  quivering 
and  unstrung  from  her  recent  suffering,  and 
quite  white. 


A  VALIANT   IGNORANCE  139 

*'  He  is  in  trouble !  "  she  cried,  low  and 
breathlessly.  ''  Oh,  what  is  it  ?  What  has 
happened  ? " 

Dennis  Falconer's  patience  was  approach- 
ing its  limits,  and  he  spoke  curtly  and 
conclusively. 

"  I  think  we  may  dispense  with  this  kind 
of  thing,"  he  said.  *'  It  can  serve  no  purpose, 
as  everything  is  known.  I  come  now  from 
his  mother  with  full  power  to  act  for 
her " 

He  was  interrupted.  A  burning  colour, 
the  colour  of  such  paralysing  surprise  .as 
can  take  in  hardly  the  bare  statement,  much 
less  the  consequent  developements  and  in- 
ferences, had  rushed  suddenly  over  Clemence's 
face,  dyeing  her  very  throat. 

"His  mother!"  she  exclaimed.  ''His 
mother  !  "  Her  tone  dropped  as  she  repeated 
the  words  into  a  strange,  uncertain  murmur, 
in  which  incredulity,  acceptance — as  a  kind 
of  experiment  —  and  something  that  was 
almost  fear,  were  inextricably  blended. 

The  fear  alone  caught  Falconer's  ear.  His 
lips  were  parted  to  resume  his  speech  with 
grim  decisiveness  in  the  conviction  that  she 


140  A  VALIANT  IGNORANCE 

understood  at  last  that  nothing  was  to  be 
gained  by  trifling  with  him,  when  she  said, 
as  though  he  had  had  nothing  to  do  with 
her  previous  words  : 

"  Go  on,  please." 

He  looked  at  her  again,  and  was  struck 
by  a  new  look  in  her  face,  as  he  had  been 
struck  by  a  new  tone  in  her  voice.  She  was 
evidently  going  to  drop  all  theatricalities, 
he  told  himself. 

"Perhaps  you  were  not  aware  that  he  is, 
practically,  under  the  control  of  his  mother," 
he  said.  "  That  is  to  say,  he  is  dependent 
on  her  for  every  penny  he  spends.  It  is 
quite  out  of  the  question  that  he  should 
make  money  at  the  bar  —  by  his  own  pro- 
fession, that  is  to  say  —  for  two  or  three 
years  at  least.  Consequently  the  cutting 
oflf    of    the    allowance    made    him    by    Mrs. 

Eoden    will     mean     for     him     absolute 

penury." 

She  was  staring  at  him ;  staring  at  him 
out  of  two  wide,  intense  brown  eyes  ;  with 
such  a  helpless  bewilderment  in  her  face 
that  she  seemed  to  be  quite  dazed.  She 
put   her   hand   to   her    head    as    he    paused 


A  VALIANT  IGNORANCE  141 

with   a   feeble,    uncertain    gesture ;    but   slie 
did  not  speak,  and  Falconer  went  on  severely  : 
'^  I  conclude  that  he  has  not  represented 
these  facts  to  you  as  they  stand.     They  are 
facts,     nevertheless.       You     will,     therefore, 
understand    that,    his   allowance    withdrawn, 
he   will   be   entirely   without   the   means    of 
supporting  you.     You  may  possibly  consider 
that  some  shifty  means  might  be  found  which, 
by  putting  him  in  possession  of  small  sums 
of  money,   would  enable  him  for  a  time  to 
defy  his  mother.     Let  me  point  out  to  you 
something    of    what    such    a    course    woi^ld 
involve.     Julian  Eoden  is  a  young  man  with 
a   good   position   in    society — I    mean    he   is 
accustomed   to   be   made   much   of    by   men 
and   women   who   are    his    equals;     he    has 
chances  and  opportunities  of  which  he  intends, 
no  doubt,  to  avail  himself.     All  this,  in  taking 
such  a  step,  he  would  throw  away  for  ever. 
Social    intercourse,   future   career,    would   go 
with  his  income  at  his  mother's  word.     Now, 
I   will   ask   you   only   how   long    you    could 
hope   to   depend   on    him    in    such    circum- 
stances ;     how  long   it  would  be   before   his 
only   feeling   for   the   woman  whom   he   had 


142  A  VALIANT  IGNORANCE 

allowed  to  drag  him  down  and  to  destroy- 
all  his  hopes  in  life  would  degenerate  into 
sheer  repugnance ;  and  for  how  long  he 
would  care  to  keep  her  ? " 

He  paused,  and  after  a  moment's  dead 
silence  Clemence  spoke  in  a  weak,  eager, 
almost  desperate  voice  : 

''There  must  be  some  mistake!  It — it 
can't  be — the  same  !  " 

The  words  seemed  to  Falconer  a  mere 
miserable  subterfuge,  and  he  answered  very 
sternly : 

''There  is  not  the  faintest  possibility  of 
mistake.  Julian  Roden  has  owned  the  whole 
affair  to  his  mother,  who  taxed  him  with  it 
on  her  discovery " 

"  Oh,  wait  a  minute  !     Wait  a  minute  ! " 

There  was  a  ring  of  such  intolerable  pain, 
such  shame  and  anguish,  in  the  voice,  that 
Falconer's  attention,  heavy  and  prejudiced 
as  it  was,  was  arrested  by  it.  Dimly  and 
uncertainly,  and  for  the  first  time,  the  girl 
before  him  appeared  to  him,  not  simply  as 
a  representative  of  a  degraded  sisterhood, 
but  as  a  woman.  He  looked  at  her  for  a 
moment,   as  she  stood  with  her  face  buried 


A  VALIANT  IGNORANCE  143 

in  her  hands,  quivering  from  head  to  foot, 
with  a  severe  kind  of  pity. 

"I  will  tell  you,  as  briefly  as  may  be, 
what  I  am  charged  to  say,''  he  said  gravely, 

but    not    ungently.       *'  Mrs. Koden    is 

determined  to  break  off  her  son's  disgraceful 
connection  with  you  at  the  cost  of  any 
suffering  to  herself  or  to  him.  She  is  willing 
to  believe  that  her  son  is  to  be  considered 
in  some  sort  as  the  more  guilty  party  of 
the  two  in  having  acted  as  the  tempter, 
and  she  has  no  wish  to  deal  otherwise 
than  generously  by  you.  But  there  are 
conditions." 

He  paused  again.  Over  the  slender, 
bowed  woman's  figure  before  him  there  had 
gradually  crept,  as  he  spoke,  a  stillness  like 
the  stillness  of  death ;  and  now,  as  he  waited 
for  her  to  speak,  Clemence  slowly  lifted  her 
head  and  looked  at  him ;  looked  at  him  with 
dull,  sunken  eyes,  which  seemed  the  only 
living  points  in  a  face  out  of  which  all  life 
and  expression  seemed  to  have  been  crushed 
by  a  rigid,  haggard  mask. 

'*  Conditions  ? "  she  repeated. 

Her  voice  was  hollow,  and  had  a  mono- 


144  A  VALIANT  IGNORANCE 

tonous,  far-away  sound,  and  the  word  seemed 
to  have  no  meaning  for  her. 

A  sense  of  vague  discomfort  took  pos- 
session of  Dennis  Falconer.  A  dim  sense 
that  he  was  not  being  met  as  he  had  expected 
—  as  he  had  a  right  to  expect  —  disturbed 
and  annoyed  him.  He  had  no  idea  that 
what  he  was  chiefly  discomposed  by  was  a 
hazy  consciousness  that  a  touch  of  uncon- 
scionable respect  for  the  woman  who,  as  he 
believed,  was  utterly  unworthy  of  respect, 
was  mingling  with  his  already  sufficiently 
unorthodox  sense  of  pity  ;  but  he  entrenched 
himself  in  a  triple  armour  of  stiffness. 

*'  The  conditions  are  these,"  he  said. 
*'  You  will  give  your  written  word,  as  under 
penalties  for  having  obtained  money  by  false 
pretences,  to  leave  England  on  a  given  date 
and  by  a  given  route,  and  not  to  return 
to  England  within  the  next  ten  years.  Mrs. 
— Koden  in  return  will  pay  you  the  sum 
of  five  hundred  pounds.  If  you  refuse 
these  terms,  and  Koden  submits  to  his 
mother,  you  will  simply  be  the  poorer  by 
five  hundred  pounds.  If  you  induce  him 
to  defy  his  mother,  the  consequences  I  have 


A  VALIANT  IGNORANCE  145 

already  described  to  you  will  inevitably 
ensue." 

He  waited  for  her  answer,  steadily  forti- 
fying himself  against  being  surprised  at  any- 
thing she  might  say  ;  but  no  answer  came. 
That  strange,  stricken  face  was  still  turned 
full  towards  him,  but  he  had  an  uneasy 
sense  that  he  was  not  seen  by  the  great,  dull, 
dark  eyes.  He  felt,  too,  that  as  she  stood 
there  with  her  hands  tightly  clasped  together, 
she  was  not  thinking  even  remotely  of  the 
choice  he  had  set  before  her,  though  he  knew 
that  she  had  heard  his  words  and  understooel 
them.  It  was  with  an  instinctive  desire  to 
rouse  her,  to  bring  back  some  expression 
to  her  face,  that  he  said,  with  an  awkward 
gentleness  which  was  quite  involuntary  : 

"There  is  no  need  for  you  to  decide 
hastily.  You  understand  the  alternative 
thoroughly,  no  doubt.  I  will  leave  you 
my  address,  and  you  can  write  me  your 
answer." 

He  felt  in  his  pocket  for  his  card-case, 
and  the  movement  seemed  to  rouse  her. 
She  stopped  him  with  a  slight  motion  of 
her  hand. 

VOL.  II  L 


146  .\   VALIANT  IGNOKANCE 

''There's  no  need,"  she  said.  As  though 
the  act  of  speaking  had  brought  her  back 
from  somewhere  far  away,  and  as  though 
the  claims  of  the  moment  were  gradually 
becoming  present  to  her,  she  paused  as  if 
to  gather  force,  and  to  close  upon  herself 
a  certain  strangely  fine  reserve,  which  seemed 
at  once  to  hedge  her  about  and  hold  her 
aloof  from  the  man  to  whom  she  spoke ; 
and  then  she  spoke  very  quietly.  "  I  don't 
want  any  money.  If  it  is  better  that  he 
should  be  free  of  me,  he  shall  be  free. 
That's  all." 

"  You  are  making  a  mistake  ! "  returned 
Falconer  quickly.  There  was  something 
about  the  dignity  of  her  manner  which 
made  him  feel  curiously  impotent  and  small, 
as  though  in  the  presence  of  an  unknown 
power  greater  than  himself,  and  the  sense 
increased  the  touch  of  irritation  he  had 
already  experienced.  His  tone  was  no  longer 
coldly  stern ;  it  was  insistent  and  annoyed. 
"  You  should  consider  your  future.  If  you 
accept  Mrs.  Roden's  offer  and  leave  Eng- 
land   with    a    small   capital    you    will    have 


A  VALIANT  IGNORANCE  147 

a  chance  of  beginning  life  again.  The 
step  you  have  lately  taken  may  be  your 
first  step  on  the  downward  path — I  con- 
clude that  it  is.  You  should  reflect  how 
difficult  it  is  to  pause  there.  With  a  little 
money  you  may  establish  yourself  in  a  re- 
spectable business,  and  in  the  course  of 
time  you  may  even  redeem  your  unfortu- 
nate past." 

Not  a  muscle  of  the  still,  pale  face  moved. 
It  seemed  to  have  grown  strangely  older 
and  stronger  in  the  course  of  the  short 
interview,  and  it  listened  to  him  with  an 
air  of  courteous  patience  which  seemed  to 
set  an  impassable  distance  between  them. 
The  perfect  steadiness  of  her  voice  as  she 
replied  was  the  steadiness  not  of  composure 
but  of  reserve. 

**  It  is  quite  impossible  ! "  she  said. 

'*  Then  I  am  sorry  to  have  to  say  that  I 
consider  you  both  foolish  and  ungrateful ! " 
said  Falconer  with  increasing  severity.  "  You 
put  it  entirely  out  of  our  power  to  do  anything 
for  you.  Am  I  to  understand  that  you  refuse 
to  leave  England  ?  " 

L  2 


148  A  VALIANT  IGNORANCE 

"  I  don't  know.  I  must  think  !  "  Still 
the  same  distant,  unmoved  patience. 

"  You  will  do  well  to  think,"  was  Falconer's 
reply,  ''  and  to  put  away  from  you  in  doing 
so  a  false  pride,  which  is  entirely  misplaced. 
I  will  give  you  twenty-four  hours  for  con- 
sideration, and  to-morrow  afternoon  I  will  call 
and  see  you  again."  On  second  thoughts  it 
had  occurred  to  Falconer  that  it  would  be  a 
false  step  to  give  her  his  name  and  address. 
"  I  shall  hope  to  find  that  you  have  come  to  a 
sensible  decision." 

He  paused  a  moment,  and  she  made 
a  slight  gesture  of  acquiescence,  rather  as 
though  his  words  were  indifferent  to  her 
than  in  any  token  of  assent  to  what  he 
said.  He  added  a  stiff,  formal  "  Good  after- 
noon !  "  and  as  her  lips  moved  mechanically 
as  if  to  frame  the  words  in  answer,  he  turned 
and  left  the  room. 

As  though  his  presence  and  his  words  had 
been  so  mere  a  drop  in  the  deei^  waters  of 
suffering  which  held  her  that  his  withdrawal 
affected  her  not  at  all,  Clemence  stood  for  the 
moment  just  as  he  left  her,  hardly  conscious, 
as  it  seemed,   that   he  was   gone.     Then,  as 


A  VALIANT  IGNORANCE  149 

though  the  sense  that  she  was  alone  had  come 
to  her  gradually,  she  dropped  feebly  into  a 
chair,  and  let  her  face  fall  heavily  forward 
upon  the  table. 


CHAPTER   IX 

The  hand  crept  round  the  clock,  the  swift 
November  twilight  fell,  and  still  she  did  not 
move  ;  only  her  clasped  hands  stretched  them- 
selves out  as  if  in  prayer.  She  was  not  praying 
though.  The  attitude  was  instinctive  and 
unconscious  ;  a  blind,  mute  appeal.  She  was 
simply  stunned.  The  room  grew  darker  and 
darker  until  its  only  light  was  a  ray  from  the 
street-lamp  outside  falling  straight  across  the 
bowed  head ;  and  then  there  was  a  ring  at  the 
bell  and  a  slow  step  upon  the  stairs.  Cle- 
mence  knew  the  step  well,  though  she  had 
never  before  heard  it  fall  like  that.  As  it  fell 
upon  her  ear  now,  a  strong  shiver  ran  all 
through  her,  and  her  hands  were  draw^n 
sharply  to  cover  her  face.  The  door  was 
opened,  and  her  face  was  pressed  down  still 
more  tightly. 


A  VALIANT  IGNOEANCE  151 

"Clemence!      What,    all    in    the    dark? 

Why,  Clemence "     The  masterful,  rather 

aggressively  cheerful  young  voice  stopped 
abruptly,  and  Julian  Eomayne  stood  still 
against  the  door  he  had  closed  behind  him, 
listening ;  listening  to  a  low,  pitiful  sound, 
which  seemed  to  fill  the  very  air — the  sound 
of  a  woman's  heart-broken  crying.  At  the  first 
tone  of  his  voice  great,  scalding  tears  had 
started  to.Clemence's  eyes  suddenly  and  with- 
out warning  ;  a  low,  choking  sob  had  shaken 
her  from  head  to  foot,  and  she  was  crying 
now  with  the  hopeless  abandonment  of  sud; 
denly  loosened  grief 

There  was  a  moment  during  which  the 
only  sound  in  the  room  was  the  sound  of  her 
quivering  sobs.  Julian  stood  quite  still ;  on 
the  first  instant  there  leapt  into  his  face  such 
a  look  of  fierce,  vindictive  anger  as  absolutely 
transformed  it.  The  look  faded  slowly  into  a 
kind  of  bitter  background,  and  a  hard  sullen- 
ness  settled  itself  upon  it — settled  with  some 
difl&culty  as  it  seemed,  for  his  lips  twitched 
a  little.  Then  he  advanced  into  the  room 
and  broke  the  silence,  and  the  roughness  in 
his   tone   seemed    to    defy    something  within 


152  A  VALIANT'  IGNORANCE 

himself.  He  made  no  attempt  to  light  the 
gas.  The  lamp  outside  made  it  possible  to 
move  about,  and  apparently  he  did  not  care 
for  further  illumination. 

"  Come,  Clemence,"  he  said,  "  what's  the 
matter  ? " 

He  had  not  approached  her ;  on  the  con- 
trary, he  was  on  the  other  side  of  the  room 
looking  down  at  her  across  the  lodging-house 
table.  She  did  not  raise  her  head  or  move 
as  she  replied ;  indeed,  the  choked,  broken 
words  were  rather  the  expression  of  the  mingled 
shame  and  pity  with  which  she  was  crushed 
than  a  definite  answer  to  his  words. 

"  Oh  !  Julian  !  Julian  !  Julian  !  " 

Apparently  the  tone  of  her  voice  affected 
him  in  spite  of  himself,  for  his  face  twitched 
again,  and  he  spoke  more  harshl}'-  still. 

"  What's  the  matter,  I  say  ?  " 

She  stretched  her  hands  out  to  him  across 
the  table,  still  without  lifting  her  face,  in  an 
unconscious  gesture  of  appeal. 

"  Oh,  don't ! "  she  cried  beseechingly  and 
piteously.  **  Don't,  dear  !  Don't  pretend  any 
more.     I — I  know !  " 

The  hands  thrust  deep  down  into  Julian's 


A  VALIANT  IGNOEANCE  153 

pockets  were  clenched  fiercely,  and  his  teeth 
were  set  together,  as  a  look  rose  in  his  eyes 
which  they  had  never  held  before. 

"  My  mother  ?  "  he  said. 

She  answered  only  with  a  slight  shivering 
gesture,  but  it  was  enough.  With  his  young 
face  white  to  the  lips  with  passionate  resent- 
ment, Julian  turned  brusquely  away  and  took 
two  blind  strides  to  the  window,  with  a 
muttered  oath. 

There  was  a  long  silence.  Julian  stood  at 
the  window,  staring  blankly  out  into  the 
darkness  with  hard  eyes.  Clemence  w^s 
indeed,  as  she  believed  herself  to  be,  his  wife. 
How  it  had  come  about,  how  he  had  drifted 
into  anything  so  far  from  his  vague  thoughts 
in  his  first  meetings  with  her,  he  could  not 
have  said.  What  it  was  that  had  shaped  and 
moulded  his  intention  into  something  so  much 
purer  and  more  manly  than  his  own  nature, 
he  only  now  and  then  felt  faintly  and  in- 
definitely when  he  touched  it,  as  he  could 
touch  it  rarely  and  densely,  in  the  woman 
from  whose  higher  nature  it  emanated.  He 
had  married  her  with  that  reckless  carelessness 
for  the  future  which  seems  almost  abnormal. 


154  A  VALIANT   IGNORANCE 

but  which  is  not  an  uncommon  characteristic 
of  weakness  ;  and  now  he  was  quite  incapable 
of  facing  and  enduring  the  legitimate  conse- 
quences of  his  action.  He  had  lied  to  his 
mother  to  save  himself  from  the  heavier 
penalty  with  which  she  threatened  him,  and 
his  suggestion  as  to  the  possibility  of  his 
marrying  the  girl  she  believed  him  to  have 
ruined,  had  been  a  miserable,  consciously 
degraded  attempt  at  cutting  the  Gordian  knot. 
He  bad  lied  to  his  mother  again,  deliberately 
and  without  compunction,  at  their  second 
interview,  giving  her  a  promise  which  he 
knew  to  be  an  empty  form,  in  his  word  to  break 
with  the  girl  who  was  his  wife.  He  had 
come  to  Clemence  to-day,  intending  to  arrange 
for  that  temporary  suspension  of  intercourse 
with  her,  which  was  inevitable  as  a  blind  to 
his  mother,  by  telling  her  that  he  was 
obliged  to  go  abroad  immediately  for  an  in- 
definite period. 

Now  as  he  stood  there  in  the  dark  little 
room,  with  his  eyes  fixed  on  the  solitary  gas- 
lamp  outside,  he  was  gradually  realising  that 
it  was  all  over.  His  mother  had  sent,  had 
possibly  come  herself,  to   Clemence,  he  sup- 


A  VALIANT  IGNOEANCE  155 

posed,  and  Clemence  had,  of  course,  declared 
herself  his  wife.  His  plans  were  all  upset. 
His  carefully  made  calculations  were  no  longer 
of  any  avail.  It  was  all  over.  His  brain 
gradually  ceased  to  busy  itself  ;  he  was  staring 
darkly  at  penury,  humiliation,  ostracism — not 
thinking  of  them  or  feeling  them,  but  just 
contemplating  them  with  a  stupid,  mental 
gaze. 

Gradually  a  sense  of  his  surroundings 
began  to  return  to  him.  He  became  conscious 
that  it  was  a  street-lamp  at  which  he  was 
looking ;  that  there  was  a  dark  little  street 
before  him  ;  that  there  was  a  dim  room  behind 
him  ;  and  then  from  that  room  a  low  sound 
came  to  him — faint,  exhausted,  long-drawn 
sobs,  as  of  a  woman  who  has  wept  herself  into 
quiet.  He  began  to  listen  for  them  and  count 
them  involuntarily.  Then  they  began  to  hurt 
him  ;  each  one  seemed  to  stick  something  into 
his  heart.  At  last  he  walked  across  almost 
mechanically,  and  laid  his  hand  tentatively  on 
her  shoulder. 

*'  It's  all  right,  Clemence ! "  he  said 
huskily.  "It's  all  right,  dear.  After  all, 
you  know,  you  are  my  wife  all  right !  "     He 


156  A  VALIAKT   IGNORANCE 

was  conscious  of  a  vague  idea  that  it  was  the 
suppositiou  he  had  allowed  that  had  cut  her 
so  cruelly. 

There  was  another  moment's  pause,  and 
then  Clemencc  slowly  lifted  her  head  and 
looked  at  him  for  the  first  time.  Her  face 
was  white  and  exhausted-looking  with  her 
tears,  and  her  eyes,  luminous  and  inexpressibly 
mournful,  seemed  to  look  through  the  pale, 
good-looking  young  features  above  her  into 
the  poor  cramped  soul  they  hid. 

''IV  she  said.  ''What  does  it  matter 
about  me,  Julian  ?  It's  you  !  Oh,  my  dear, 
my  dear,  it's  you  !  " 

'*  It — it's  awkward  !  "  returned  Julian 
gloomily;  his  consciousness  of  the  prospect 
before  him  seemed  to  quicken  and  writhe  at 
what  he  supposed  to  be  her  realisation  of  it. 
"  It's  loss  of  everything  practically,  of  course. 
One  will  be  cut  right  and  left,  and  where 
money  is  to  come  from " 

He  was  interrupted  by  a  low  cry.  Clemence 
had  drawn  a  little  back  as  though  to  see 
him  better,  and  was  looking  up  at  him 
with  her  delicate  eyebrows  drawn  together  in 
intense,  painful  perplexity  and  wonder. 


A  VALIANT  IGNOEANCE  157 

"  Oh,  Julian ! "  she  said,  and  her  low 
voice  had  for  the  first  time  a  ring  of  re- 
proach in  it.  "Oh,  Julian,  it  isn't  that, 
dear !  It  isn't  that !  What  does  that 
matter  ?  " 

''  What  does  it  matter  ? "  echoed  Julian 
with  an  angry  laugh.  Her  words,  in  the 
total  want  of  comprehension,  the  total  in- 
capacity for  sympathy  with  his  position,  to 
which  they  witnessed,  seemed  to  him  to 
throw  into  sudden,  glaring  relief  the  class 
distinction  which  lay  between  them ;  and  the 
sense  of  it  came  upon  him,  jarring  and  over- 
whelming, like  an  earnest  of  all  he  had  done 
for  himself.  '^  It  matters  a  good  deal,  let  me 
tell  you,  Clemence.  It  matters — as  you  can't 
understand,  you  know !  It  matters  just 
everything ! " 

"  But — compared  !  "  she  said  in  a  low, 
quick  tone,  a  bright,  pained  light  in  her  eyes. 
"  I  know — I  know,  of  course,  that  there  is  a 
great  deal  I  can't  understand.  But — com- 
pared ! " 

"Compared  with  what,  in  Heaven's  name?" 
said  Julian  angrily. 

"  Compared  with — yourself,  Julian  !  "  she 


158  A  VALIANT  IGNORANCE 

cried,  laying  a  tender,  clinging  touch  on  his 
arm.  *'  Compared  with  your  own  truth  !  Oh, 
don't  you  know  it's  that,  it's  only  that  that 
has  been  so  dreadful  to  me — that  made  me' 
feel  as  if  my  heart  was  breaking  !  It's  think- 
ing that  you've  been  false,  dear  !  That  you've 
said  what's  not  true,  acted  what's  not  true  ! 
Oh,  it's  that  that  I  can't  bear  for  you,  my 
dear,  my  dear  !  " 

He  stood  looking  down,  not  at  her  face, 
but  at  the  worn,  trembling  hand  holding  his  in 
such  a  clasp  of  love  and  shame — shame  for 
him  as  he  vaguely  felt ;  suspended  between 
wrath  and  a  certain  cold,  creeping  feeling 
which  he  could  not  analyse,  but  which  seemed 
to  be  gradually  turning  him  into  a  horrible 
shadow.  It  was  an  involuntary,  unwilling 
concession  to  this  feeling,  as  one  might  throw 
a  sop  to  an  on-coming,  all-threatening  monster, 
that  he  muttered  awkwardly  : 

''  I — I'm  sorry  I  deceived  you,  Clemence." 
**  Deceived  me  !  "  There  was  an  emphasis 
on  the  pronoun  which  seemed  to  lift  her  far 
above  him  in  its  absolute,  unconscious,  self- 
abnegation.  "Me!  Oh,  it  isn't  that!  It 
doesn't  matter  who  it  is  or  how  many  people 


A  VALIANT  IGNORANCE  169 

it  is  !  It's  the  thing  itself.  It's  the  meaning 
to  yourself,  and — and  Heaven  above  !  Julian, 
dear,  you  believe  in  Heaven  above,  don't 
you  ? "  Clemence's  creed  was  very  simple  ; 
the  attitude  of  the  spirit  which  '^  Heaven 
above"  had  given  her  was  not  an  affair  of 
many  words.  ''  You  know  it's  oneself  that 
matters.  It  isn't  what  one  has  or  the  friends 
one  has  that  make  the  difference — they're  not 
anything  really.     It's  oneself !  " 

She  paused  a  moment,  but  he  did  not 
speak.  He  was  still  looking  heavily  down  at 
the  hand  on  his  arm,  and  she  went  on  again, 
her  voice  trembling  with  earnestness. 

''Julian,  there's  that  at  the  bottom  of 
everything  in  all  kinds  of  life !  It  doesn't 
matter  whether  one's  rich  or  poor,  it  doesn't 
matter  whether  people  think  well  of  us — we 
can't  always  make  them,  and  we  can't  all  be 
rich.  But  we  can  all  be  good,  dear.  Heaven 
means  us  all  to  be  good,  don't  you  think? 
Oh,  if  it  didn't,  if  it  wasn't  that  that  mattered 
most  of  all  down  at  the  bottom,  what  would 
the  world  come  to  be  like  ?  And  why  should 
anybody  go  on  living  !  " 

Julian   Komayne   was   very   young.     Far 


160  A  VALIANT  IGNORANCE 

down  in  his  nature  ;  in  that  awful  inex- 
tricable tangle  which,  because  it  is  so  awful 
and  so  far  beyond  his  reach,  man  struggles 
so  insanely  to  reduce  to  his  poor  little  level, 
to  define,  and  label,  and  explain  away,  but 
which  remains  in  spite  of  him  a  mystery  of 
God  ;  there  was  that  strange  affinity  for  noble 
thouo'hts  and  thino[s  which  is  the  siorn  manual 
of  His  part  in  man,  never  wholly  withdrawn 
by  its  Creator  from  the  earth.  It  is  in  the 
young  that  that  instinctive  affinity  is  most 
easily  reached  and  touched ;  and  the  simple, 
ignorant,  unworldly  words — words  which  could 
have  touched  in  Julian  no  reasoning  powers — 
were  the  medium  which  reached  it  now. 
Clemence  had  reached  it  more  than  once  or 
twice  before,  and  its  feeble  stirring  in  response 
had  quickened  it,  and  rendered  it,  in  some 
poor  and  infinitesimal  degree,  sensitive  to  her 
touch. 

He  drew  his  arm  sharply  from  those  cling- 
ing, pleading  hands,  and  turned  away,  leaning 
his  arm  on  the  mantelpiece  so  that  she  could 
not  see  his  face.  That  cold,  creeping  feeling 
which  seemed  to  sap  all  his  reality  had  stolen 
over  his  whole  personality,  and  he  was  held 


A  VALIANT  IGNORANCE  161 

numb  and  paralysed  in  the  clutch  of  an  all- 
dominating  question.  Was  it  really  as  she 
said  ?  His  own  life,  his  own  world  had  faded 
into  shadows  as  of  a  very  dream.  Strange, 
distorted  shapes,  conceptions  so  new  to  him 
that  they  wore  a  weird  and  ghostly  air  of 
unreality,  seemed  to  be  rising  round  him, 
pressing  him  into  nothingness.  Was  it  as  she 
said  ?  He  did  not  speak,  and  after  a  moment 
Clemence  went  on  ;  very  tenderly,  very  deli- 
cately, as  though  in  her  intense  sympathy 
and  feeling  for  the  suffering  she  ascribed  to 
him  by  intuition,  she  dreaded  to  hurt  hijn 
further ;  diffidently  and  with  difficulty,  be- 
cause she  was  so  little  used  to  clothing  in 
words  all  that  to  her  was  most  real  and  vital 
in  life. 

"  You  —  you  must  think  of  the  future, 
dear.  I  know — I  know  that  you  can  hardly 
bear  to  look  at  the  past,  but  it — it  is  past ! 
It  hasn't  been  you,  really  !  I  know  it  can't 
have  been  !  And — it  will  wear  out  of  your 
life  at  last,  dear,  by — by  truth.  You  will 
tell  your  mother  that  we  are  married  " — a 
scarlet,  agonising  colour  dyed  her  face  for 
-an    instant  — "  perhaps   you    have   told    her 

VOL.  II  M 


162  A  VALIANT   IGNORANCE 

already  ?  And  perhaps,  perhaps  she  will 
forgive  you !  If  not — why  if  not,  perhaps 
the — the  pain  will  help  to  wear  it  out,  my 
dearest." 

Her  voice  and  the  expression  of  the  sweet, 
white  face  she  lifted  to  him  had  changed 
subtly  as  she  spoke.  Her  great  pity  and 
sorrow  for  him  had  developed  a  strange,  new 
phase  in  her  love  for  him.  It  had  become 
tenderer,  deeper.  She  had  lost  her  reverence 
for  him,  but  her  love  had  triumphed  over 
the  loss,  and  through  the  pain  and  victory  it 
had  won  higher  ground,  and  become  the  love 
of  sympathy  and  consolation. 

But  Julian  hardly  heard  her  last  words. 
His  attention  had  stopped,  as  it  were,  at  those 
preceding  them  : 

"You  will  tell  your  mother  that  we  are 
married ! " 

Had  Clemence  not  told,  then?  Was  it 
possible  that  she  had  not  mentioned  it ;  that 
his  mother  did  not  know  even  now  ;  that  there 
was  still  hope  ? 

The  thought  arrested  the  current  of  his 
thoughts  in  an  instant.  The  possibilities  the 
thought  suggested ;   all  the  tangible,  definite 


A  VALIANT  IGNORANCE  163 

advantages  it  held  ;  swept  over  those  faintly 
quickened  perceptions  in  a  sudden  wave  of 
excitement,  numbing  them  on  the  instant. 
The  things  which  had  been  realities  to  him  as 
long  as  he  had  had  any  consciousness,  took  to 
themselves  substance  once  again  and  pressed 
about  him.  Life  and  the  world  resumed  their 
normal  complexion,  and  he  lifted  his  head 
quickly  and  turned. 

"Do  you  mean  —  have  you  seen  my 
mother  ?  Whom  have  you  seen  ?  Do  you 
mean  that  you  have  said  nothiug  ? " 

There  was  a  pause  as  Clemence  looked  .at 
him  for  a  moment  confused  and  startled,  it 
seemed,  by  his  manner.  There  was  a  wonder- 
ful, unconscious  touch  of  diguity  in  her  gentle 
manner  as  she  answered  : 

"  I  never  thought  of  it ! " 

"  Was  it  my  mother  ? " 

"  No  ;  a  gentleman." 

Julian  moved  abruptly  with  a  low  excla- 
mation, and  began  to  walk  rapidly  up  and 
down  the  little  room  absorbed  in  easfer 
thought.  Clemence  watched  him  with  a 
puzzled,  surprised  look  in  her  eyes,  and  a 
little  touch  of  reserve  creeping  over  her  face. 

M  2 


164  A  VALIANT  IGNORANCE 

At  last  he  stopped  suddenly  and  began  to 
speak,  looking  anywhere  but  on  her  face. 

"  Look  here,  Clemence,  I'm  afraid  this 
sounds  an  awfully  blackguardly  thing  to 
suggest,  but  you'll  see  it's  necessary.  It  won't 
do  for  me  to  tell  my  mother  just  yet.  To 
tell  you  the  truth  she  is  frightfully  set  against 
my  marrying.  I  am  done  for  all  rouud  as 
soon  as  she  knows,  and  it  would  be  just 
cutting  our  own  throats  to  tell  her — yet,  you 
know.  You  see,"  he  went  on  hurriedly, 
evidently  anxious  to  prevent  her  speaking, 
"  you  see,  as  I  am  I've  got  very  good  pro- 
spects. In  a  few  years,  if  all  goes  well,  I 
shall  be  making  heaps  of  money  at  the  bar — 
a  fellow  that  is  well  known,  you  know,  can 
always  get  on — and  then  it  will  be  all  right 
and  simple.  Meanwhile,  you  see,  I  have 
plenty  of  money,  and  we  can  be  together 
almost  as  much  as  we  like,  quietly,  you  know. 
Whereas  if  we  burst  it  all  up  now  we  shall 
just  starve  and  be  out  of  it  all  our  lives. 
Don't  you  see  ?  " 

He  stopped  awkwardly,  but  for  the 
moment  he  had  no  answer.  Clemence  had 
listened   to  him,  the  expression  of  her   face 


A  VALIANT  IGNOEANCE  165 

cbaiaging  from  wonder  to  incredulity,  from 
incredulity  to  agony,  from  agony  to  the  look 
of  a  creature  stricken  to  death.  She  lifted 
her  hand  in  the  silence  slowly  and  heavily  to 
her  head.  Julian  saw  the  gesture,  though 
he  could  not  see  her  face,  and  its  heaviness 
somehow  increased  his  discomfort. 

"You  see  it's  only  common  sense !  "  he 
said  impatiently. 

"  You  mean  that  you  want  to  go  on 
living  a  double  life — that  you  don't  want, 
don't  mean  to  try,  to  do  right  ! "  The  voice 
was  not  like  the  voice  of  the  Clemence  he 
knew.  It  was  low,  distinct,  and  stern,  and 
she  spoke  very  slowly. 

"  I  mean  that  I  don't  w^ant  to  ruin  myself 
out  of  hand  ! "  he  said  harshly.  "  Don't  be 
foolish,  Clemence  ! " 

''  Euin ! "  she  said  in  the  same  tone. 
"  You  don't  know  what  real  ruin  means !  I 
don't  know  how  to  make  you  understand  ; 
I'm  not  clever  enough.  But  I  can  tell  you 
just  this!  I  would  rather  die  than  have  it 
as  you  say.  For  your  sake,  not  for  my  own 
only,  I  would  rather  die.  Until  your  mother 
knows  the  truth  I  won't  even  see  you  or  speak 


166  A  VALIANT  IGNOEANCE 

to  you  again.  As  to  taking  a  penny  of  your 
money,  I  would  starve  first." 

Her  tone,  vibrating  with  intensity  of 
meaning,  was  quite  low^  She  was  not  de- 
chximing  or  protesting.  She  was  simply 
making  her  stand  at  a  proposition  so  terrible 
to  her  that  it  had  carried  her  beyond  the 
bounds  of  emotion.  For  the  moment  Julian 
was  startled  and  ao-hast. 

''You  don't  mean  that!"  he  said. 
''Clemence,  that's  nonsense!" 

"It's  truth!"  she  said  steadily.  ''You 
must  choose ! " 

She  was  standing  facing  him,  her  slight 
fiojure  erect  and  straio[ht  as  he  had  never 
seen  it.  Her  face  Avas  white  as  death,  and 
set  into  strange,  fine  lines  quite  new  to 
it ;  all  the  softness  about  her  mouth  was 
being  gradually  pressed  out  as  the  latent 
strength  developed,  as  it  seemed,  with  every 
breath  she  drew.  It  was  as  though  the  crisis, 
in  its  sudden  demand  upon  her  forces,  was 
transforming  her  as  she  grappled  with  it  ; 
transformino-  her  into  a  woman  before  whom 
Julian  felt  himself  shrink  into  utter  con- 
temptibility.     He   took   the   only   means    he 


A  VALIANT  IGNOKANCE  167 

knew  to  reassert  himself,  and  lost  his  temper 
deliberately. 

'*  Well,  then,  I  do  choose ! "  he  cried 
violently.  "  You're  a  foolish  girl,  who  doesn't 
understand,  Clemence,  and  by-and-by  you'll 
own  I  was  right !  As  to  not  taking  my 
money,  that's  absurd,  you  know !  You 
must !  But  I'm  not  joiner  to  ruin  both  of 
us  for  absurd  fancies  ! " 

He  stopped,  hoping  she  would  answer 
and  give  him  some  advantage,  but  she  stood 
silent,  gazing  at  him  with  stern,  searching 
eyes,  as  though  she  were  trying  in  vain  ^  to 
reconcile  the  man  before  her  with  the  man 
she  loved.  Julian  felt  her  gaze  though  he 
could  not  see  it,  and  he  went  on  hotly, 
trying,  as  it  were,  to  gather  round  him  the 
rags  of  his  old  authority  and  superiority. 

^'You  don't  suppose,  Clemence,"  he  said, 
*'  that  I  propose  this  because  I  like  it  ?  It's 
not  a  nice  thing  for  a  man  to  propose  to 
his  wife,  I  can  tell  you.  I  should  have 
hoped  you  would  have  understood  that.  But 
after  all  it's  only  for  a  time,  and  it  won't 
make  any  real  difference  to  you — things  will 
be    just   as    they   have   been.      And   if    you 


1G8  A  VALIANT  IGNOKANCE 

can't  feel  about  it  as  I  Jo,  you  must  remember 
it's  because  you've  got  a  great  deal  to  learn 
still,  and  you  must  believe  that  what  I  say 
is  right.  Anyway,  you're  my  wife,  you 
know,  and  you're  bound  to  obey  me  ! " 

*'  I'm  bound  to  obey  you  in  all  things 
that  it's  right  you  should  ask.  Bat  I'm  not 
bound  to  do  what  would  be  dragging  you 
down  and  me  too.  I  can't  make  you  do 
what's  right;  it  wouldn't  do  you  any  good 
for  me  to  tell  your  mother ;  but  until  you 
do,  it  will  be  as  I  said." 

'•'  Then  it's  you  who  part  us,"  he  cried 
passionately.  **  You  don't  love  me,  Clemence  ! 
You  can't  ever  have  loved  me  ! " 

There  was  a  moment's  pause,  and  then 
her  answer  came  in  a  stransre,  still  voice. 

*'I  do  love  you!"  she  said.  ''I  love 
you  so  that  I  would  give  my  life  to  blot 
out  what  you've  said  !  " 

A  dead  silence — a  silence  in  which  Julian 
Komayne  seemed  to  feel  something  pulling 
and  strainino'  at  his  lieart-strinQ-s.  Then  with 
a  reckless,  desperate  effort  he  tore  himself 
away  from  its  influence  and  spoke. 

''  It     can't    be     helped,    then,"    he    said 


A  YALTANT  IGNOEANCE  169- 

fiercely  and  defiantly.  "  You  must  go  your 
own  way  until  you  come  to  your  senses  ! 
Some  day,  perhaps,  you'll  be  grateful  to 
me  for  refusing  to  make  fools  of  us  !  I 
wouldn't  have  believed  it  of  you,  Clemence  I 
You  make  me  almost  sorry  that  I  ever  saw 
you.  Now,  look  here;  I've  put  it  to  you 
from  every  point  of  view  ;  I've  tried  as  hard 
as  ever  I  can  to  make  you  understand,  and 
if  you  won't,  you  won't !  As  to  the  money, 
of  course,  I  can't  hear  of  your  not  taking 
that.  I  shall  send  you  so  much  regularly 
every  month — it  won't  bo  very  much  either, 
but  it'll  be  enough  to  keep  you — and,  of 
course,  you'll  have  to  spend  it.  But  you 
need  not  be  afraid  that  I  shall  want  to  see 
you  again  until  you  come  to  a  more  sensible 
frame  of  mind." 

He  waited,  but  again  there  was  no 
answer,  and  again  some  influence  from  her 
still  presence  discomfited  him,  and  made 
him  hurry  on. 

''I'm  going  now!"  he  said  roughly. 
*'  Good-bye,  Clemence  !  "  He  made  a  move- 
ment as  though  to  go,  without  a  tenderer 
farewell,  but  quite  suddenly  his  heart  failed 


170  A  VALIANT  IGNORANCE 

bim.  He  turned  again  and  took  her  into  his 
arms  impulsively  and  tenderly.  "  Clemmie  !  " 
he  said  brokenly.     ''  I  say — Clemmie  !  " 

Her  arms  were  round  his  neck  pressing 
him  closely  and  more  closely,  with  a  desperate, 
agonised  pressure,  and  a  long,  clinging  kiss 
was  on  bis  cheek. 

"Don't  keep  me  waiting  long,"  she 
whispered  hoarsely.  "You  will  do  it  at 
last.  I  know,  I  know  you  will  But  — 
don't  keep  me  waiting  long ! " 

She  released  him  and  drew  herself  gently 
out  of  his  arms,  and  Julian  turned  and 
stumbled  out  of  the  room  and  down  the 
stairs,  the  most  consciously  contemptible 
young  man  in  London,  and  with  no  strength 
to  act  upon  his  consciousness. 


CHAPTEE  X 

"'  You  admire  it,  Mrs.  Eomayne  ?  It  strikes 
you  as  true  ?  Ah,  but  that  is  very  charming 
of  you  ! " 

A  confused  babel  of  voices — that  curious, 
indefinable  sound  which  is  shrill,  though  its 
shrillness  would  be  most  difficult  to  trace ; 
harsh,  though  it  arises  from  the  voices  of 
well-bred  men  and  women  ;  and  absolutely 
unmeaninoj — was  fillinoj  the  two  rooms  from 
end  to  end  ;  and  the  soft  light  diffused  by 
cleverly  arranged  lamps  fell  upon  groups  of 
smartly  dressed  women  and  men  equally 
correct  in  their  attire  on  male  lines.  It  was 
about  five  o'clock,  not  a  pleasant  time  on  a 
gusty,  sleety  November  afternoon  if  Nature 
is  allowed  to  have  her  own  way ;  but  inside 
these  rooms  it  was  impossible  to  do  anything 
but  ignore  nature  ;    the  air  was  so  soft  and 


172  A  VALIANT  IGNOEANCE 

warm — faintly  scented,  too,  with  flowers — 
and  the  colour  so  rich  and  delicate.  The 
rooms  themselves  were  a  curious  hybrid 
between  the  fashionable  and  the  artistic ; 
that  is  to  say,  they  were  not  arranged 
according  to  any  conventional  tenets,  and 
there  were  various  really  beautiful  hangings, 
*'bits"  of  old  brass,  ''bits"  of  old  oak,  and 
'*  bits "  of  old  china  about.  But  all  these, 
though  very  cleverly  arranged,  were  distinctly 
"posed."  The  larger  of  the  two  rooms  was 
obviously  a  studio ;  rather  too  obviously, 
perhaps,  since  the  fact  was  impressed  by  a 
certain  superabundance  of  artistic  prettinesses. 
Char  minor  little  arranorements  in  hanoino-s, 
palms,  or  what  not,  "  composed "  at  every 
turn  with  the  constantly  shifting  groups. 
The  unconventionalism,  in  short,  was  as  care- 
fully arranged  as  was  the  attitude  of  the 
host  of  the  hour  as  he  stood  leaning  against 
a  large 'easel,  mysteriously  curtained,  talking 
to  Mrs.  Romayne.  He  was  a  painter,  and 
a  clever  painter ;  he  had  married  a  clever 
wdfe,  and  as  a  result  of  the  w^orking  of  their 
respective  brains  towards  the  same  goal   he 


A  VALIANT  IGNOEANCE  173 

had  become  the  fashion.  "  Everybody  "  went 
to  ''  the  Stormont-Eades'  affairs,"  whether  the 
affair  in  question  was  a  little  dinner,  a  little 
* 'evening,"  or  a  little  tea-party — Mrs.  Stormont- 
Eade  always  affixed  the  diminutive ;  conse- 
quently everybody  was  obliged  to  go  ;  a 
fact  which  if  carefully  thought  out,  will  lead 
to  some  rather  curious  conclusions.  And  the 
little  tea-parties,  particularly  in  the  winter, 
were  considered  particularly  desirable  func- 
tions. One  of  these  tea-parties  was  going 
on  now. 

Mr.  Stormont-Eade  himself  was  a  tall, 
good-looking  man  who  had  nearly  succeeded, 
by  dint  of  careful  attention  to  his  good  points, 
in  conveying  the  impression  that  he  was  a 
handsome  man.  He  had  fine  eyes,  really 
remarkably  fine,  as  he  was  well  aware,  when 
they  were  earnest,  and  they  were  lookiug 
now  with  a  deep  intensity  of  meaning,  which 
was  their  normal  expression,  into  Mrs. 
Komayne's  face ;  his  mouth  was  not  so 
admirable  except  when  he  smiled,  and  conse- 
quently his  thin  lips  were  slightly  curved  ; 
his   figure   was   too    thin,  and   the    touch   of 


174  A  VALIANT  IGNORANCE 

picturesqueness  about  his  pose  and  about  liis 
velvet  coat  redeemed  it ;  but  his  closely- 
curlinor  hair  was  cut  short  and  trim,  and 
showed  the  excellent  shape  of  his  head  to 
the  best  advantage.  He  had  come  up  to 
Mrs.  Romayne  only  a  minute  or  two  before 
at  the  conclusion  of  a  song ;  a  very  little 
very  fashionable  music  was  always  a  feature 
of  the  Stormont-Eades'  entertainments,  and 
"  good  people  " — the  phrase  in  this  connection 
representing  clever  professionals  possessed  of 
the  social  ambition  of  the  day — were  glad 
to  sing  or  play  for  them ;  and  she  had  begun 
to  speak  of  a  little  picture  of  his  which  was 
one  of  the  themes  of  the  moment. 

Mrs.  Romayne  was  dressed  from  head  to 
foot  in  carefully  harmonised  shades  of  green 
— green  was  the  colour  of  the  season — with 
a  good  deal  of  soft  black  fur  about  it.  Her 
bonnet  became  her  to  perfection ;  her  face 
was  so  animated  that  in  the  soft  light  a 
certain  haggard  sharpness  of  contour  was 
hardly  perceptible.  Her  smiles  and  laughs 
as  she  exchanged  greetings  and  chat  were 
always   ready ;    if  they   left   her   eyes   quite 


A  7ALIANT  IGN0EA:N"CE  175 

untouched,  her  attention  was  apparently  as 
free  and  disengaged  as  were  the  gay  little 
gestures  with  which  she  emphasized  her  talk. 
There  was  absolutely  nothing  about  her  which 
could  have  suggested  to  the  ordinary  observer 
anything  beyond  the  surface  of  finished  society 
woman  which  she  was  presenting  so  brightly 
to  the  world.  But  on  the  previous  evening 
she  had  had  a  note  from  Falconer,  written 
immediately  after  his  interview  with  ^'  the 
girl,"  telling  her  only  that  he  was  to  have 
a  second  interview,  and  would  see  her  on 
the  following  day.  That  day  was  ik)w 
drawing  to  a  close,  and  she  had  as  yet  heard 
nothing  further. 

"  It  enchanted  me ! "  she  said  now.  *'  But 
then  your  things  always  do  enchant  me,  you 
know !  By-the-bye,  people  say  that  you 
are  going  to  do  a  big  picture.  I  hope  that 
is  not  so  ?  Little  bits  are  so  much  more 
fascinating." 

Mr.  Stormont-Eade  smiled  —  the  tender, 
comprehending  smile  that  was  one  of  his 
charms. 

"  No,  it  is  not  true,"  he  said.     '^  One  is 


176  A  VALIANT  IGNORANCE 

SO  fettered  with  a  laro^e  work,  but  little  thinofs 
represent  the  inspiration,  the  feeling  of  the 
moment.  If  they  have  any  value,  it  lies 
in  that."  They  had  a  distinct  financial  value, 
though  it  is  doubtful  whether  the  dealers 
would  have  recognised  the  source. 

"  Ah,  the  feeling  of  the  moment !  "  said 
Mrs.  Komayne  with  pretty  fervour.  "That  is 
what  one  so  seldom  gets,  isn't  it  ?  And  it 
is  so  delightful ! " 

Then  she  broke  off  with  a  charminof  smile 
to  shake  hands  with  Mrs.  Halse,  brought  by 
the  constant  shifting  of  the  groups  into  her 
vicinity.  Mrs.  Romayne  was  an  excellent 
listener,  and  reputed  a  good  talker,  though 
she  had  probably  never  said  a  witty  or  a 
clever  thing  in  her  life ;  but  she  was  never 
exclusive ;  she  was  always,  so  to  speak,  more 
or  less  in  touch  with  the  whole  room,  and 
ready  to  extend  her  circle. 

"  I've  been  making  for  you  for  hours," 
she  said  gaily.  "Ah!"  The  word  was  an 
exclamation  of  pleased  surprise  as  she  suddenly 
became  aware  of  a  girl's  figure  behind  Mrs. 
Halse ;    a   girl's   figure   much  better  dressed 


A  VALIANT  IGNOEANCE  177 

than  had  been  its  wont,  and  very  erect, 
with  a  latent  touch  of  triumph  and  excite- 
ment on  the  pretty  face.  It  was  Miss  Hilda 
Newton. 

'^I  did  not  know  you  were  in  London," 
went  on  Mrs.  Eomayne,  holding  out  her  hand 
with  gracious  cordiality. 

^'  She  is  staying  with  me  on  most  impor- 
tant business,"  said  Mrs.  Halse.  Mrs.  Halse 
had  accommodated  herself  to  her  increasino: 
portliness  by  this  time,  and  had  apparently 
thought  it  necessary  to  increase  the  exuberance 
of  her  manner  proportionately.  Her  voice, 
and  the  laugh  with  which  she  spoke,  were 
equally  loud.  *' Trousseau,  you  must  know. 
She  is  to  be  married  directly  after  Christmas. 
And  when  I  heard  it  I  wrote  and  said  she'd 
better  come  straight  to  me,  and  then  I  could 
see  that  she  got  the  right  things.  Of  course, 
as  she's  to  live  in  town,  she  must  have  the 
right  things,  you  know." 

"  Of  course,"  assented  Mrs.  Eomayne 
gaily  and  airily.     ''  And  you  are  very  busy  ?  " 

The  last  words  were  addressed  to  Hilda 
Newton,  whose  hand  Mrs.  Romayne  still  held. 

VOL.  II  N 


178  A  VALIANT  IGNOEANCE 

There  was  a  curious  mixture  of  resentment, 
defiance,  and  triumph  in  tbe  girl's  face  as 
she  confronted  the  suave,  smiling  countenance 
of  the  elder  woman,  which  just  touched  ber 
voice  as  she  answered  : 

"  Very  busy  indeed  !  " 

She  was  conscious  of  a  desire  so  to  frame 
her  answer  as  to  suggest  the  position  in 
society  which  was  to  be  hers  on  her  marriage, 
but  she  could  think  of  no  words  in  which 
to  do  it. 

**  And  where  is  Master  Julian  ? "  broke  in 
Mrs.  Halse.  Delicacy  and  tact  had  never 
been  more  than  names  with  her ;  as  her  fibre, 
mental  and  physical,  coarsened,  she  was  be- 
ginning to  think  it  quite  unnecessary  to 
maintain  even  a  bowing  acquaintance  with 
these  qualities  ;  and  her  strident  voice  ex- 
pressed a  great  deal  that  Hilda  Newton  would 
like  to  have  expressed.  "  He  must  be  made 
to  come  and  offer  his  congratulations  —  or 
perhaps  Hilda  will  compound  with  him  for 
a  particularly  handsome  wedding  -  present. 
He  knows  Talbot  Compton,  of  course  ?  Other- 
wise, they  must  be  introduced." 


A  VALIANT  IGNORANCE  179 

**  He  is  not  here  this  afternoon,  I'm  sorry 
to  say,"  returned  his  mother,  smiling.  Mr. 
Stormont-Eade,  if  he  could  have  recognised 
^'  the  feeling  of  the  moment "  in  this  par- 
ticular crisis,  might  have  learnt  a  lesson  on 
several  points.  '^  He  has  turned  into  a 
tremendously  hard  worker,  you  know.  An 
astonishing  fact,  isn't  it  ?  I  tell  him  he  has 
secret  intentions  of  taking  the  bench  by 
storm." 

She  was  laughing  and  looking  idly  away 
across  the  room,  when  quite  suddenly  she 
stopped.  Just  inside  the  doorway,  shakirrg 
hands  with  Mrs.  Stormont-Eade,  and  having 
evidently  just  arrived,  was  Dennis  Falconer, 
and  as  she  cauojht  sio^ht  of  him  there  flashed 
into  her  eyes,  through  all  the  superficial 
brightness  of  her  face,  something  which  was 
like  nothing  but  a  sheer  agony  of  hunger. 
It  came  ia  an  instant,  and  it  was  gone  in  an 
instant.  As  he  turned  away  from  his  hostess 
and  caught  her  eye,  she  made  him  a  light 
gesture  and  smile  of  greeting,  and  turned 
again  to  Mrs.  Halse ;  and  Mrs.  Halse  was  not 
even  conscious  of  a  pause. 

N    2 


180  A  VALIANT  IGNORANCE 

"  It's  almost  too  astonishing,  don't  you 
know ! "  said  that  vociferous  lady  with  a 
laugh.  '*  I  don't  half  believe  in  these  sudden 
transformations.  If  I  were  you  I  should 
make  him  produce  his  work  every  night  for 
inspection.  It's  my  belief  he  is  getting  into 
mischief.  These  hard-working  young  men  are 
such  frauds  ! " 

She  laughed  loudly,  and  at  that  moment 
accident  brought  Falconer,  on  his  way  across 
the  room,  to  a  standstill  a  few  paces  from  her. 
He  had  evidently  intended  to  pass  the  little 
group,  but  Mrs.  Halse  frustrated  his  intention. 
With  a  peremptory  gesture  she  claimed  his 
attention,  and  as  he  drew  nearer,  she  said 
boisterously  : 

"  Now,  don't  you  agree  with  me,  Mr. 
Falconer  ?  Aren't  these  good,  hard-working 
boys  the  greatest  scamps  going  ?  " 

Falconer  was  looking  very  severe  and 
impassive ;  he  shook  hands  with  Mrs.  Halse, 
and  then  turned  perforce  to  Mrs.  Eomayne^, 
taking  her  hand  with  an  almost  solemn 
gravity,  which  contrasted  sharply  with  the- 
careless  gaiety  with  which  she  extended  it. 


A  VALIANT   IGNOEANCE  181 

"  I  didn't  expect  to  see  you  this  afternoon," 
she  said  lightly.  "  Stupid  of  me,  though ; 
every  one  comes  to  the  Stormont-Eades'." 

"  I  did  not  expect  to  meet  you,"  he 
answered  sternly.  "  I  have  called  at  Queen 
Anne  Street." 

He  had  been  astounded  at  not  finding  her 
at  home.  He  was  distinctly  of  opinion  that 
afternoon  teas  were  not  for  a  woman  who 
should  be  sitting  in  sackcloth  and  ashes,  and 
the  sight  of  her  had  shocked  not  only  his 
sense  of  propriety,  but  some  deeper  sense  of 
the  reality  of  the  crisis  at  which  he  w«s 
assisting.  Perhaps  Mrs.  Eomayne  understood 
that  her  presence  at  the  ''little  tea-party" 
scandalised  him,  for  there  was  a  strange,  bitter 
smile  on  her  lips  before  she  turned  to  Mrs. 
Halse,  and  said,  with  a  rather  hard,  strained 
ring  in  her  gay  voice  : 

"  You'Jl  get  no  support  from  my  cousin, 
I  assure  you,  Mrs.  Halse.  He  was  a  most 
praiseworthy " 

Her  voice  was  drowned  in  a  rino^inoj 
chord  on  the  piano,  and  as  the  prelude  to  a 
song   filled   the  room,  she   made    a   mocking 


182  A  VALIANT  IGNORANCE 

gesture  expressive  of  the  impossibility  of 
making  herself  heard  ;  and  turning  her  face 
towards  the  singer,  as  she  stood  by  Falconer's 
side,  she  composed  herself  to  listen.  Her  face 
grew  rather  set  and  fixed  in  its  lines  of 
animated  attention  as  the  sonir  went  on,  and 
when  it  ceased,  her  comments  were  of  the 
indefinitely  delighted  order.  She  made  them 
very  easily  and  brightly,  however,  and  then 
she  turned  carelessly  to  Falconer. 

''  Are  you  thinking  of  staying  long  ?  "  she 
said  lightly.  "  1  rather  want  to  talk  to  you, 
do  you  know — this  unfortunate  man  is  my 
man  of  business,  you  must  know,  Mrs.  Halse 
— and  I  thought  perhaps  that  I  could  drive 
you  somewhere." 

*'  I  shall  be  happy  to  go  whenever  you 
like,"  was  the  grave  answer. 

Mrs.  Komayne  laughed  lightly. 

"Oh,  I  don't  want  to  take  you  away 
immediately!"  she  said.  "You've  only  just 
come,  I'm  afraid.     In  a  little  while  !  " 

She  smiled  and  nodded  to  him,  and  to 
Mrs.  Halse  and  Miss  Newton,  and  moved 
away  to  speak  to  some  other  people. 

About  a  quarter  of  an  hour  later  Falconer, 


A  YALIANT  IGNORANCE  183 

who  was  a  somewhat  grim  ornament  to  society 
in  the  interval,  saw  her  coming  smiling 
towards  him. 

"Eeady?"  she  said.  ''That's  very  nice 
of  you  !     Suppose  we  go,  then  ?  " 

He  followed  her  out  of  the  room  and  down 
the  stairs,  her  flow  of  comments  and  laughter 
never  ceasing ;  put  her  into  her  carriage,  and 
got  in  himself. 

"  Home  ! "  she  said  sharply  to  the  coach- 
man. The  door  banged,  they  rolled  away 
into  the  darkness  and  the  wet,  and  her  voice 
stopped  suddenly. 

They  rolled  along  for  a  few  minutes  in 
total  silence.  Shut  up  alone  with  her  like  that, 
the  isolation  and  quiet  following  so  suddenly 
on  the  crowd  and  noise  of  a  moment  before. 
Falconer's  only  conscious  feeling  was  one  of 
almost  stupid  discomfort.  Her  sudden  silence, 
too,  had  an  indefinable  but  very  unpleasant 
effect  upon  him.  At  last  he  said  with 
awkw^ard  displeasure  : 

*'  I  was  going  to  write  to  you  !     I " 

She  lifted  her  hand  quickly  and  stopped 
him. 

"  When  we  get  in !  "  she  said  in  a  quick, 


184  A  VALIANT  IGNORANCE 

tense  voice.  ''  You  can  come  in  ?  It  is  just 
six.     It  need  not  take  long." 

"  I  am  quite  at  your  service." 

She  leant  back  in  her  corner  with  a  sharp 
breath  of  relief,  and  neither  moved  nor  spoke 
again  until  the  carriage  drew  up  at  her  own 
door. 

She  opened  the  door  with  a  latch-key, 
and  moved  quickly  across  the  hall  to  the 
foot  of  the  stairs,  motioning  to  Falconer  to 
follow  her.  Then  she  stopped  abruptly  and 
turned.  A  servant  was  just  crossing  the  hall 
to  the  dining-room,  where  the  preliminary 
preparation  for  a  dinner-party  could  be  seen. 

"Is  Mr.  Julian  in  ?"  said  Mrs.  Eomayne 
sharply. 

"Not  yet,  ma'am." 

"  If  he  should  come  in  before  I  go  to  dress, 
tell  him  that  I  am  engaged." 

She  turned  again  and  went  on  to  the 
drawing-room. 

"  Now  !  "  she  said  in  a  breathless  peremp- 
tory monosyllable,  facing  Falconer  as  he  shut 
the  door.  She  did  not  attempt  to  sit  down 
herself  or  to  invite  Falconer  to  do  so.     All 


A  VALIANT  IGNORANCE  185 

her  senses  seemed  to  be  absorbed  in  the 
desperate  anxiety  with  which  her  face  was 
sharp  and  haggard.  She  looked  ten  years 
older  than  she  had  looked  in  Mr.  Storm ont- 
Eade's  studio.  Falconer  answered  her  directly 
with  no  preliminary  formalities. 

"  I  saw  the — the  young  woman  yesterday," 
he  began ;  "  but  I  was  unable  to  bring  about 
any  arrangement.  I  gave  her  twenty-four 
hours  for  consideration,  and  this  afternoon 
I  called  to  see  her  again." 

*'Yes,  yes!" 

"  I  found  that  she  had  left  the  hou^e 
this  morning,  leaving  no  address." 

''Left!"  The  erect,  tense  figure  con- 
fronting him  staggered  back  a  step  as  though 
a  heavy  blow  had  fallen  upon  it,  and  Mrs. 
Romayne  caught  desperately  at  the  back  of  a 
■chair.  "Left — and  you  don't  know  where 
she  is  ?  You've  settled  nothing  ?  We've  no 
hold  over  her  !  " 

The  words  had  come  from  her  in  hoarse, 
gasping  sentences,  each  one  growing  in  in- 
tensity until  the  last  vibrated  with  an  agony 
of  very   despair,    but    Falconer's    face    grew 


186  A  VALIANT  IGNORANCE 

grimmer  as  he  listened.  IIow  it  was  he  could 
not  have  told,  but  a  strange,  uncomfortable 
remembrance  of  the  girl  he  had  seen  on  the 
previous  da}^  which  had  haunted  him  at 
more  or  less  inopportune  moments  ever  since, 
seemed  to  rise  now  and  accentuate  all  his 
usual  antagonism  to  the  woman  who  was 
talking  of  her. 

^*  I  tliink  you  need  not  distress  yourself," 
he  said  stiffly.  **  Perhaps  I  had  better  tell 
you  at  once  that  your  son  knows  no  more  of 
her  whereabouts  than  we  do." 

The  drawn  look  of  despair  relaxed  on  Mrs. 
Komayne's  face ;  relaxed  into  an  agony  of 
questioning  doubt. 

"  Doesn't  know  ? "  she  said  sharply. 
*'  Julian  doesn't  know  ?  " 

''The  landlady  of  the  house,"  continued 
Falconer,  *'  a  very  unpleasant  and  loquacious 
woman,  was  easier  to  inform  me  that  on  the 
arrival  of  your  son  yesterday  afternoon,  about 
an  hour  after  I  saw  the  young  woman,  there 
was  a  quarrel  between  them  and  that  he  left 
the  house  in  anger.  To-day,  very  shortly  before 
my  arrival,  he  returned  and  was  astonished  to 


A  VALIANT  IGNORANCE  187 

find  that  the  young  woman  was  gone.  He 
demanded  her  address,  and  was  furious  to  find 
that  it  was  not  known.  I  think  there  is  no 
room  for  doubt  that  the  young  woman  has 
left  him  ! " 

The  colour  was  coming  back  to  Mrs. 
Eomayne's  face  slowly  and  in  burning  patches, 
and  her  clutch  on  the  chair  was  almost 
convulsive. 

*'  Left  him  !  "  she  said  under  her  breath. 
"  Left  him  ! "  There  was  a  moment's  pause, 
and  then  she  said  in  a  harsh,  high-pitched, 
concentrated  tone  :  "  Do  you  mean — for  good  ? 
Why  ?     Why  should  she  ?  " 

''  I  am  sorry  to  have  to  say  it  to  you,"  said 
Falconer  slowly,  '^  but  I  fear  the  case  against 
your  son  is  even  blacker  than  it  appears  on 
the  surface.  I  think  it  more  than  possible 
that  he  deceived  the  young  woman." 

The  slowly-formed  conviction  —  and  it 
became  conviction  only  as  he  spoke  the  words 
— was  the  result  of  that  vague  and  disturbing 
impression  made  on  Falconer  on  the  preceding 
day  by  "  the  young  woman."  It  had  worked 
slowly  and  almost  without  consciousness  on 


188  A  VALIANT  IGNORANCE 

bis  part,  but  it  bad  refused  to  die  out,  aud  it 
bad  attained  tbe  only  fruition  possible  to  it  in 
bis  last  words. 

"  And  you  believe  tbab  sbe  is  really  gone  ? 
Tbat  tbere  is  notbing  more  to  fear  from 
ber  ? " 

It  was  tbe  same  absorbed,  intent  tone, 
and  ber  eyes,  fixed  eagerly  on  Falconer  now, 
were  bard  and  glitterinor.  Tbe  terrible  sig:ni- 
fieance  of  bis  words,  witb  all  tbe  weigbt  of 
tragedy  tbey  beld,  seemed  to  bave  passed  ber 
by,  to  bave  no  existence  for  ber.  It  was  as 
tbougb  tbe  sense  in  ber  wbicli  sbould  bave 
responded  to  it  was  numbed  or  non-existent. 
And  Falconer,  scandalised  and  revolted,  replied 
sternly  : 

^'  1  tbink  you  need  bave  no  anxiety  on  tbat 
score.  Sbe  bas  disappeared  of  ber  own  free 
Avill,  and  your  son,  upon  reflection,  will  pro- 
bably be  glad  to  accept  so  easy  a  solution  of 
wbat  be  doubtless  recognises  by  tbis  time  as  a 
troublesome  complication."  Tbere  was  a  rigid 
and  utterly  antipatbetic  condemnation  of 
Julian  in  bis  voice ;  be  bad  judged  tbe  young 
man,  and  sentenced  bim  as  vicious  to  tbe  core. 


A  VALIANT  IGNORANCE  189 

and  for  all  his  experience,  he  held  too  rigidly 
to  his  narrow  conception  to  consider  the 
possible  effect  upon  youth  and  passion  of  so 
sudden  and  total  a  thwarting.  "My  only 
fear,"  he  continued,  "is  that  serious  injustice 
has  been  done.  The  young  woman  is  by  no 
means  the  kind  of  young  woman  I  was  led  to 
believe  her.  I  have  grave  doubts  as  to  whether 
it  was  not  our  duty  to  enforce  a  marriage 
upon  your  son,  instead  of  negativing  the 
suo^o^estion." 

The  words  were  probably  rather  more  than 
he  would  have  been  prepared  to  stand  to  bad 
they  been  put  to  a  practical  issue,  and  he  had 
spoken  them,  though  he  hardly  knew  it,  more 
from  a  severe  desire  to  arouse  what  he  called 
in  his  own  mind  ''some  decent  feeling"  in  the 
woman  to  whom  he  spoke,  than  from  any  other 
reason.  From  that  point  of  view  they  failed 
completely.  It  was  a  bright  light  of  triumph 
that  flashed  into  Mrs.  Komayne's  eyes  as  she 
said  quickly,  and  in  an  eager,  vibrating  tone, 
which  seemed  less  an  answer  to  him  personally 
than  to  the  bare  fact  to  which  he  had  given 
words  : 


190  A  YALTANT  IGNORANCE 

''Fortunately  there  is  no  more  fear  of 
that." 

The  tall  clock  standing  in  a  corner  of  the 
room  chimed  the  three-quarters  as  she  spoke, 
and  she  started  as  she  heard  it. 

"It  is  a  quarter  to  seven," she  said.  *'  And 
I  have  people  to  dinner.  You  have  nothing 
else  to  tell  me,  have  you  ?  Nothing  to 
advise  ?  " 

*'  Nothing,"  was  the  grim  answer. 

"  You  do  not  think — would  it  be  a  good 
thing,  do  you  think,  to  have  the  girl  traced 
so  that  we  could  always  be  sure  ?  " 

''  You  need  take  no  further  trouble  in  the 
matter,  in  my  opinion.  If  you  should  observe 
anything  in  your  son's  conduct  to  revive 
your  uneasiness,  the  question  must,  of  course, 
be  reconsidered.  You  will  observe  him  closely, 
no  doubt." 

There  was  a  moment's  curiously  dead 
silence,  and  then  it  was  broken  by  a  strange 
half-laugh. 

*'  No  doubt !  "  said  Mrs.  Komayne.  "  No 
doubt!" 

Another  pause,  and  then  she  turned  and 
glanced  at  the  clock. 


A  VALIANT  IGNOEANCE  191 

"  I  must  go,"  she  said.     "  Thank  you." 

She  held  out  her  hand,  and  he  just  touched 
it  as  though  conventionality  alone  compelled 
him. 

''  I  have  considered  myself  bound  in 
duty  in  the  matter,"  he  said  stiffly.  "  Good 
night ! " 

No  touch  of  artificiality  returned  to  her 
manner  even  in  dismissing  him.  It  remained 
hard  and  practical.  Her  intense  absorption 
in  the  subject  of  their  interview  did  not  yield 
by  so  much  as  a  hair's  breadth,  and  she 
remained  absolutely  impervious  to  any  thought 
of  the  man  before  her.  His  slight,  cold  touch 
of  her  hand,  the  sternness  of  his  obvious  con- 
demnation of  her,  were  evidently  absolutely 
unobserved  by  her. 

**  Good  night !  "  she  returned  ;  and  as  he 
left  her  without  another  word,  she  crossed  the 
room  rapidly  and  went  upstairs  to  dress  for 
dinner. 

The  dinner-party  of  that  evening  was 
unanimously  declared  by  the  guests  to  be 
quite  the  most  delightful  Mrs.  Romayne  had 
ever  given.  The  dinner,  the  flowers,  all  the 
arrangements,  were  perfection,  of  course ;  but 


192  A  YALTANT  IGNORANCE 

even  when  this  is  the  case  the  '^go"  of  a 
dinner-party  may  be  a  variable  or  even  a  non- 
existent quality  ;  and  it  was  the  "  go  "  of  this 
particular  occasion  that  was  so  remarkable.  All 
the  component  parts  of  the  party  seemed  to  be 
animated  and  fused  into  one  harmonious  whole 
by  the  s]Dirits  of  the  hostess  and  host.  Mrs. 
Romayne  was  so  charming,  so  bright,  so  full 
of  vivacity  ;  Julian,  who  put  in  his  appearance 
only  just  before  the  anDOuncement  of  dinner, 
was  so  boyish,  so  liv^ely,  so  ingenuous.  He  was 
a  little  pale  when  he  first  appeared,  and  the 
lady  he  took  down  to  dinner  reproached  him 
with  w^orking  too  hard ;  but  as  the  evening  wore 
on  he  gained  colour.  The  relations  between 
himself  and  his  mother  had  always  been  quite 
one  of  the  features  of  Mrs.  Romayne's  enter- 
tainments, but  those  relations  had  never  been 
more  charmingly  accentuated  than  they  were 
to-night. 

Until  he  came  gaily  in  among  her  guests 
that  evening,  Julian  and  his  mother  had  not 
met  since  that  second  interview  which  had 
prompted  her  summons  to  Falconer.  Julian 
had  dined  out  on  both  the  intervening  even- 
ings, and  it  was  easily  to  be  arranged  under 


A  VALIANT  IGNORANCE  193 

these  circumstances,  if  either  of  the  pair  so 
willed  it,  that  forty-eight  hours  should  go  by 
without  their  comiDg  in  contact  with  one 
another.  And  an  onlooker  aware  of  the  cir- 
cumstances of  their  last  meeting,  and  watchins: 
the  mother  and  son  throuo[h  the  evenino^  now, 
might  have  reflected  that  the  laws  of  here- 
dity seldom  operate  exclusively  through  one 
parent. 

^*  Good  night,  dear  Mrs.  Romayne  !  Such 
a  delightful  evening  !  How  I  do  envy  you 
that  dear  boy  of  yours !  It's  the  greatest 
pleasure  to  see  you  two  together." 

The  speaker  was  a  good-natured  old  lady, 
and  she  had  thought  it  no  harm  to  put 
into  words  what  her  fellow-guests  had  only 
thought.  She  was  the  last  departure,  and 
Mrs.  Komajme  followed  her  to  the  top 
of  the  stairs,  with  a  laughing  deprecation 
of  the  words  which  was  very  fascinating, 
and  then  turned  back  into  the  drawino:- 
room  with  another  "  good  night,"  as  Julian 
prepared  to  attend  the  old  lady  to  her 
carriage. 

The  hall  door  shut  with  a  banof,  and  then 
there  was  a  moment's  pause.     The  mother  in 

VOL.  II  o 


194  A  VALIANT  IGNOEANCE 

the  drawing-room  above,  and  the  son  in  tlie 
hall  below,  stood  for  an  instant  motion- 
less. A  subtle  change  had  come  over  Mrs. 
Romayne's  face  the  instant  she  found  her- 
self alone.  It  had  sharpened  slightly,  and 
an  eager,  haggard  anticipation  was  striving 
to  express  itself  in  her  eyes,  only  to  be 
resolutely  veiled.  But  to  Julian's  face  as 
he  stood  with  his  hand  still  resting  on  the 
hall  door  there  came  a  great  and  sudden 
alteration.  All  the  light  and  gaiety  died 
out  of  it  before  a  w41d,  fierce  expression  of 
rebellion  and  distaste,  repressed  almost  in- 
stantly by  a  pale,  sullen  look  of  determina- 
tion. He  moved,  and  Mrs.  Romayne,  hearing 
his  step,  moved  slightly  also ;  he  came  up 
the  stairs,  and  as  he  came  he  seemed  to  force 
back  into  his  face  the  easy  smile  it  had  worn 
all  the  evening. 

''  It's  been  a  great  success,  hasn't  it,  dear?" 
he  said  lightly  as  he  crossed  the  drawing-room 
threshold. 

"  A  great  success!"  she  said  in  the  same 
tone — though   in   her    case   it    ning   a   little 
thin. 
.   An  instant's  silence  fpllowed,  and  then  she 


A  VALIANT  IGNOEANCE  195 

laid  her  hand  airily  on  his  arm.  Her  lips  were 
white  and  dry  with  agitation,  and  she  knew  it ; 
she  wondered  desperately  whether  her  voice 
rang  as  unnaturally  in  Julian's  ears  as  it  did 
in  her  own,  as  she  said  with  what  she  meant 
for  perfect  ease  : 

"  Dear  boy,  let  us  say  our  final  words 
upon  that  wretched  business  to-night  and 
wake  up  clear  of  it  to-morrow.  May  I  be 
happy  about  you  ?  That's  all  there  is  to  be 
said,  isn't  it  ?  " 

She  tried  to  smile,  but  she  knew  the  effort 
was  a  ghastly  failure,  and  again  she  wondered 
whether  Julian  saw.  She  need  not  have 
feared  !  Julian  was  busy  with  his  own  histrionic 
difficulties,  and  had  neither  sigfht  nor  hearinsr 
for  her. 

"You  may  be  quite  happy,  little  mother!" 
he  said,  and  the  frank  tenderness  of  his  tone 
and  manner  were  only  very  slightly  over- 
accentuated.  ''  I've  made  up  my  mind  to 
do  as  you  wish,  and  I  won't  make  such  a  fool 
of  myself  again  !  " 

They  were  standing  close  together,  looking 
each  into  the  other's  face,  and  he  patted  her 
hand  as  it  lay  on   his  arm   as   he   finished. 


196  A  YALIANT   IGNORATsCE 

Yet  between  them,  parting  tliem  as  seas  of 
ice  could  not  have  partdl  them,  there  hiy  a 
shadow  beneath  which  love  itself  survives  only 
as  the  cruellest  form  of  torture  ;  the  shadow 
of  the  unspoken  with  its  chill,  unmoveable 
dead  weight  against  which  no  man  or  woman 
can  prevail. 

The  hand  on  Julian's  arm  trembled  a 
little.  The  terrible  presence,  which  is  never 
recognised  except  by  those  to  whom  its  chill 
is  as  the  chill  of  death,  was  making  itself 
vaguely  felt  about  his  mother's  heart.  She 
let  her  eyes  stray  from  his  face  with  a  painful, 
tremulous  movement,  and  her  fingers  tightened 
round  his  arm. 

"It  is  all  over  ? "  she  murmured  in  a  low 
voice.     'Mt  is  all  over,  really  ?  " 

As  her  self-command  failed  her  his  seemed 
to  strengthen.  He  patted  her  hand  again 
reassuringly,  and  said,  confidently  : 

"Yes,  dear,  indeed!  I've  only  got  to 
beg  your  pardon,  and  I  do  that  with  all  my 
heart." 

He  stooped  and  kissed  her  tenderly,  and 
as  he  did  so  she  seemed  to  rally  her  forces 
with  a  tremendous  effort.     She  returned  his 


A  VALIANT   IGNOEANCE  197 

kiss  with  a  pretty,  effusive  embrace,  tliough 
her  lips  were  as  cold  as  ice. 

"I  grant  it  freely,"  she  said.  "And  if 
I've  felt  obliged  to  be — well,  shall  we  say 
rather  autocratic  ? — for  once  in  a  way,  you 
must  forgive  me,  too,  eh  ?  " 

But  the  unspoken,  terrible  reality  as  it 
is,  was  to  be  touched  by  no  such  ghastly 
travesty.  Julian's  laugh  was  only  a  firmer 
echo  of  his  mother's  gay  artificiality  of  tone, 
but  as  she  heard  it  her  lips  turned  whiter 
still. 

''  That's  of  course,"  he  said.     '*  Of  course.'^ 

*'  Then  it's  all  settled ! "  she  responded 
gaily.  "  We'll  draw  a  veil  over  the  past 
from  to-night,  and  behave  better  in  the 
future.  Good  night,  dear  boy  !  "  She 
kissed  him  again,  patted  him  lightly  on 
the  shoulder  and  moved  away.  On  the 
threshold  she  stopped,  turned,  and  blew  him 
a  kiss  over  her  shoulder.  "  Forgiveness 
and  oblivion  from  to-night,"  she  said ;  and 
there  was  a  strange,  defiant  gaiety  in  her 
voice. 

With  another  smile  and  a  nod  she  went 
upstairs,    and    as    she   w^ent    her    face    grew 


198  A  VALIANT  IGNORANCE 

lincil  and  drawn,  like  tlie  face  of  an  old 
woman,  and  the  defiance  that  liad  lurked  in 
her  voice  stared  out  of  her  eyes,  half- wild 
and  reckless. 


CHAPTER  Xr 

It  was  a  bright  spring  day  ;  one  of  those  days 
on  which  the  freshness  and  renewal  of  life 
which  only  spring  knows,  and  for  the  sake  of 
which  even  the  cold  monotony  of  winter  is 
endurable,  seem  to  be  in  the  very  air,  and  tjo 
radiate  with  the  light  itself.  Even  in  London, 
where  nature's  broadest  eflfects,  only,  can  be 
felt,  there  was  a  sense  of  exuberance  which 
was  almost  excitement.  The  sun  shone  with 
a  brightness  which  seemed  to  shed  oblivion 
over  past  darkness.  The  air  was  quickening 
and  stirring  with  vague  and  limitless 
possibilities. 

It  is  rather  a  notable  arrangement  which 
makes  the  quickeuing  of  life  in  one  of  the 
least  natural  systems  in  the  world,  London 
society,  simultaneous  with  nature's  great 
awakening.       It     presents    a    suggestion    of 


200  A  VALIANT  IGNORANCE 

combiiieel  travesty,  patronage,  and  uncon- 
scious testimony  to  that  affinity  between  man 
and  nature  which  nothing  can  wholly  destroy, 
which,  if  worked  out  with  a  certain  amount 
of  latitude  to  a  fantastic  imagination,  will 
have  a  rather  bewildering  effect  upon  the 
focus  of  things  in  general.  But  it  is  never- 
theless a  fact  that  on  this  particular  day  in 
May  very  many  of  the  impulses  stirring  in 
nature  had  their  strangely  distorted  counter- 
parts in  the  impulses  of  society.  Society, 
like  nature,  had  discarded  its  winter  gar- 
ments, its  winter  habits  ;  society,  like  nature, 
was  restless  wdth  fresh  beginnings,  fresh 
hopes,  fresh  tendencies.  The  resemblance 
lay  on  the  surface ;  the  contrast  was  farther 
to  seek. 

It  was  about  three  o'clock  in  the  afternoon, 
and  a  certain  section  of  society — a  gathering, 
at  least,  very  fairly  representative  of  a  certain 
section — was  surging  in  a  good-tempered, 
aimless,  demoralised  way  in  a  very  fashionable 
church  in  Kensington.  Some  of  the  de- 
moralisation was  due  to  the  occasion  —  a 
smart  wedding  —  but  the  gaiety  and  the 
general  air  of  readiness  to  be  pleased  which 


A  VALIANT  IGNOEANCE  201 

prevailed  were  as  certainly  the  outcome  of  the 
wider  spirit  of  the  hour  as  were  the  smart 
spring  gowns  and  the  quantities  of  spring 
flowers  carried  or  worn  by  the  women.  The 
bridal  party  had  left  the  church  and  a  general 
exodus  was  in  progress ;  progress  rendered 
rather  slow  by  reason  of  the  difficulties 
attendant  on  the  bringing  together  of  carriages 
and  owners,  and  involving  a  considerable 
crush  inside  the  church  door.  In  the  middle 
of  this  crush,  allowing  himself  to  be  pushed 
and  drifted  along  towards  the  door,  was  a 
man  who  was  apparently  too  fully  occupied 
in  casting  keen,  comprehensive  and  recon- 
noitring looks  about  him,  and  in  returning  the 
gestures  of  greeting  and  welcome  which  re- 
turned his  glances  on  all  sides,  to  take  much 
heed  as  to  the  manner  or  direction  of  the 
movement  imposed  upon  him  by  the  moving 
crowd.  It  was  Marston  Loring,  and  as  he 
finally  emerged  into  the  air  he  was  lightly 
clapped  on  the  shouLler  by  Lord  Garstin,  who, 
a  few  yards  in  front  of  him  during  their  com- 
pressed passage  out  of  the  building,  had 
waited  for  him  on  the  pavement. 

*'  Glad  to  see  you  back,  Loring  ! "  he  said. 


202  A  VALIANT  IGNORANCE 

''  Heard  last  night  of  your  arrival.     How  are 

you?" 

"Not  sorry  to  be  back,"  returned  Loring 
nonchalantly,  as  he  shook  hands.  '*  I've 
come  to  the  conclusion,  though,  in  the  course 
of  the  last  half-hour,  that  six  months  is  a  mere 
nothing^  !  " 

"Are  you  walking  round  to  the  house  ?  " 
asked  Lord  Garstin.  "  So  am  I.  Let  me 
have  your  news  as  we  go." 

Marston  Loring  had  spent  the  winter  at 
the  Cape.  His  departure  had  been  alluded  to 
among  his  smart  acquaintances  as  "  a  sudden 
affair"  more  or  less  indefinitely  connected  in 
their  minds  with  that  "  business "  of  which 
Loring  was  understood  to  be  a  devotee.  To 
Loring  himself  it  had  been  by  no  means  a 
sudden  thing.  That  is  to  say,  the  necessity 
for  it  had  been  gradually  growing  up  about 
him  in  his  professional  life  much  against  his 
will,  though  it  had  reached  a  crisis  some- 
what unexpectedly.  He  had  been  absent  six 
months,  and  this  was,  practically,  his  social 
reappearance  ;  but  looking  at  him  as  he  turned 
nito  the  street  with  Lord  Garstin,  it  would 
have  been  difficult   to    believe   that   he   had 


A  VALIANT  IGNORANCE  203 

been  away  at  all ;  far  less  that  be  had 
passed  through  any  striking  experiences  of 
men  and  life.  His  keen,  cynical,  unpleasant 
face  was  entirely  unaltered  ;  his  manner  was 
perfectly  calm  and  unmoved.  If  he  had 
his  observations  to  make  on  his  return,  if 
the  result  of  those  observations  was  rather 
exciting  than  indifferent  to  him,  interest 
and  emotion  were  still  entirely  outside  his 
pose. 

The  talk  between  the  two  men,  however, 
as  they  passed  along  the  streets  was  such 
talk  as  passes  when  one  of  the  two  is  occupied 
in  picking  up  dropped  threads,  and  the 
other  is  well  calculated,  and  well  satisfied,  to 
help  him  in  the  process.  In  his  heart  of 
hearts  —  if  such  a  spot  could  have  been 
reached  in  him — Lord  Garstin  would  probably 
have  confessed  to  little  personal  liking  for 
Loring ;  his  cordiality  was  the  result  of 
considerably  involved  workings  of  social 
politics,  flust  at  this  moment  in  particular, 
with  the  prestige  fresh  upon  him  of  sundry 
smart  magazine  articles  on  Cape  affairs  which 
he  had  sent  home  from  time  to  time,  ai\4 
which  had  been  a  good   deal   talked   about, 


204  A  VALIANT  IGNOKANCE 

Marston  Loring  was  distinctly  a  man  to  be 
noticed  and  encouracfed. 

Details  connected  with  the  wedding  at 
which  they  had  just  assisted  were  naturally 
the  first  topics  that  presented  themselves. 
It  was  Hilda  Newton's  wedding ;  she  had 
been  married  with  much  circumstance  from 
Mrs.  Halse's  house ;  and,  before  Loring  left 
England,  it  had  been  said  that  she  was  to  be 
married  at  Christmas  at  her  own  home  in 
Yorkshire.  About  a  month  before  the  day 
fixed  for  the  wedding,  however,  the  aunt 
with  whom  she  lived  had  died ;  the  wed- 
ding had  perforce  been  postponed,  and  when 
it  became  possible  to  consider  another  date, 
Mrs.  Halse  — in  the  absence  of  any  near  rela- 
tion to  the  bride -elect — had  taken  the  matter 
in  hand. 

*'  A  very  nice  affair  she's  made  of  it  !  " 
commented  the  elder  man,  as  he  finished  his 
explanation,  interspersed  with  discursive  items 
of  news  of  all  sorts  appertaining  to  society 
and  its  doings.  "  A  little  loud,  of  course ; 
that  goes  without  saying  ;  and,  really, 
nowadays  it's  rather  the  thing!  A  pretty 
girl  in  her  way,  Mrs.   Compton.     And  talking 


A  YALIANT  IGNOKANCE  205 

of  pretty  girls,  Maud  Pomeroy  looked  well. 
They've  been  at  Cannes  since  the  end  of 
January  ;  only  just  back,  like  yourself." 

"So  I  heard,"  answered  LoriDg  in- 
differently. "  By-the-bye,  I  didn't  see  the 
Eoraaynes.  Aren't  they  in  town  ?  I've  not 
had  time  to  look  any  one  up  yet,  of 
course,  but  I  thought  I  should  see  Julian 
to-day." 

Lord  Grarstin  paused  a  moment  before  he 
answered. 

"They  were  there,"  he  said.  "I  saw 
tliem  come  in.  You'll  see  them  at  the  house, 
no  doubt.  The  little  woman's  been  invisible 
for  tw^o  or  three  days  ;  ill — rather  bad,  some- 
body said." 

"111!"  echoed  Loring ;  and  there  was 
a  genuine  surprise  in  his  tone  which  no  in- 
formation yet  bestowed  upon  him  had  evoked. 
"  Eeally  ! "  He  paused  a  moment,  and  then 
said,  with  his  own  peculiar  smile:  "And 
how  is  Julian  ?  Does  the  hard-working  line 
hold  out  ?  " 

Lord  Garstin  smiled,  more  pleasantly  than 
Loring  had  done,  and  shrugged  his  shoulders. 

"Pretty   well,  I   suppose,"   he   said.     *' I 


206  A  YALTAXT  IGNOEANCE 

met  liis  cliicf  the  other  night,  and  he  was  not 
enthusiastic.  He's  a  nice  boy,  though. 
You're  a  great  chum  of  his,  aren't  you, 
Lorino-?"  Lorinor  nodded.  "Then  let  me 
give  you  a  hint  to  have  an  eye  to  his  pro- 
ceedings at  the  club.  Cards  are  all  very  well, 
you  know,  but  a  l^oy  like  that  should  be 
moderate.  You  might  be  able  to  talk  to  him 
about  it.  I  gave  his  mother  a  hint  a  few 
weeks  ao^o.  She's  a  nice  little  woman.  See 
what  you  can  do,  will  you  ?  I've  got  an  idea 
that  the  foolish  fellow  doesn't  play  only  at 
the  club." 

They  were  close  to  Mrs.  Halse's  house  as 
Lord  Garstin  finished,  and  his  last  words  were 
spoken  quickly  and  significantly.  Loring 
answered  only  by  a  slight  movement  of  his 
eyebrows,  and  then  they  w^ere  in  the  hall, 
being  swept  on  by  a  seething  crowd  to  pay 
their  respects  to  the  hostess  and  the  bride. 
"  Loring,  old  man  !  How  are  you  ?  " 
Lorino;  and  Lord  Garstin  had  been  thrown 
together  again  after  ofi'ering  their  congratula- 
tions, and  they  were  standing  side  by  side. 
Julian  Eoraavne  was  close  beside  them,  having 
come  up  from  behind  through  the  crowd  un- 


A  VALIANT  IGNOKANCE  207 

perceived,  Lis  hand  eagerly,  even  demonstra- 
tively, outstretched. 

Thinking  things  over  in  private  later  on, 
Marston  Loring  thought  with  a  cynical  smile 
that  if  he  had  not  previously  realised  his 
six  months'  absence,  he  might  have  done  so 
when  young  Eomayne's  voice  fell  on  his 
ear.  The  change  in  it,  though  subtle,  was 
so  marked — to  the  man  who  had  not  heard 
it  in  course  of  transition — that  it  seemed  to 
place  years  rather  than  months  between  their 
last  meeting  and  the  present,  and  it  amply 
prepared  Loring  for  what  he  saw  whei;  he 
turned  round. 

All  alteration  in  manner  and  appearance 
consists  rather  in  the  accentuation  or  modi- 
fication of  original  characteristics  than  in  the 
developement  of  fresh  ones ;  consequently  it 
is  very  seldom  noticed  by  a  casual  observer 
when  intercourse  is  unbroken.  To  Lord  Gar- 
stin  and  to  dozens  of  his  other  acquaintances, 
Julian  Komayne  was  still  a  ''nice  boy,"  just 
as  his  good-looking  features  were  still  the 
young  features  of  a  year  ago.  To  Loring  the 
difference  in  face  was  as  perceptible  as  was 
the   difference   in    the    young    man's    whole 


208  A  YALTANT  IGNORANCE 

peri=!onality,  and  the  key-note  of  tlie  difference 
lay  in  the  absence  of  genuineness  in  both  ; 
in  the  deliberate  assumption  in  the  present 
of  what  had  been  natural  and  uncalcuLated 
in  the  past.  Julian's  face  had  grown  thinner 
and  harder,  and  the  boyish  smile  which  was 
in  consequence  no  longer  perfectly  harmonious 
was  a  trifle  over-accentuated  ;  while  the 
bright,  ingenuous  glance  of  his  eyes  had 
grown  extraordinarily  like  his  mother.  His 
manner  was  the  gay,  young  manner  which 
had  gained  him  so  many  friends,  with  just 
that  touch  of  exaggeration  added  to  it  which 
artificiality  gives. 

His  cordiality  as  he  wrung  Loring's  hand 
was  rather — like  the  demonstrative  welcome 
in  his  voice — admirably  adjusted  to  meet  the 
requirements  of  the  moment  than  an  expres- 
sion of  the  man  himself.  He  was  very  care- 
fully dressed,  with  a  particularly  dainty  flower 
in  his  buttonhole. 

"Back  again  at  last,  old  fellow!"  he  said 
buoyantly.  "  By  Jove,  what  an  age  it  is 
since  you  went !  And  have  you  had  a  good 
time  ?  When  did  you  reach  home  ?  Tell  us 
all  about  it !     You've  no  idea  how  o^lad  I  am 


A  VALIANT  IGNORANCE  209 

to  have  him  back,  Lord  Garstin ! "  he  added, 
greeting  the  elder  man  with  a  boyish,  half- 
laughing  apology  for  his  exuberance  which 
was  very  eflfective.  His  manner  to  Lord 
Garstin  wds  as  charming  as  ever  ;  rather  more 
so,  indeed,  as  its  frank  deference  had  acquired 
a  polish  derived  from  sundry  little  artistic 
touches  such  as  only  calculation  and  intention 
can  bestow. 

"  You  seem  to  have  managed  very  well 
without  me ! "  returned  Lorinor  with  o:ood- 
humoured  satire.  "  The  world  seems  to  have 
used  you  pretty  fairly,  I'm  glad  to  see  !  IVe 
only  been  back  about  forty-eight  hours  or 
I  should  have  looked  you  up,  of  course.  I 
hope  Mrs.  Eomayne  is  here  ?  " 

"  I  hope  she  is  better  ? "  said  Lord  Garstin, 
with  genuine  concern.  **  We  have  all  been 
desolated  over  her  illness  ! " 

Julian,  who  had  nodded  lightly  to  Loring, 
turned  to  Lord  Garstin  with  a  bright,  aifec- 
tionate  laugh — also  very  like  his  mother's — 
and  to  Loring's  quick  and  alert  perception 
an  added  touch  of  artificiality  became  apparent 
in  his  manner  as  he  said  : 

"It  has  been  desolating,   hasn't  it?     It's 

VOL.  II  P 


210  A  VALIANT  IGNORANCE 

very  good  of  you  to  say  so,  though  !  Thanks, 
I  am  deliglited  to  sav  she  is  all  mht  agrain. 
We  had  a  terrific  encounter  as  to  whether 
she  should  or  should  not  come  to  the  affair, 
and  she  carried  the  day." 

"Being  perfectly  restored  to  health  she 
didn't  see  the  force  of  allowing  herself  to  be 
shut  up  and  coddled  by  a  silly  boy." 

The  light,  high-pitched  voice,  somewhat 
thin,  as  was  the  characteristic  laugh  with 
which  the  words  were  spoken,  came  from 
directly  behind  Julian,  and  as  Loring,  who 
had  seen  her  coming,  stepped  forward  to  meet 
her,  Mrs.  Eomayne,  with  a  passing  shake  of 
her  son's  arm,  stretched  out  her  hand  with 
graceful  cordiality. 

''Welcome  back,  Mr.  Loring,"  she  said. 
"  I  thought  your  first  visit  would  have  been 
to  this  good-for-nothing  boy,  but  I  am  very 
glad  to  meet  you  here  all  the  same.  Lord 
Garstin,"  she  continued,  as  she  turned  to 
shake  hands,  "I  believe  you  were  enquiring 
after  my  health  ?  I  can't  allow  good  breath 
to  be  wasted  in  that  way  !  I  assure  you  it 
has  been  much  ado  about  nothing,  and  I  am 
perfectly,  ridiculously  well !  " 


A  VALIANT  IGNORANCE  211 

She  laughed  as  she  finished,  but  a  certain 
strained  insistence  had  grown  in  her  tone 
as  she  spoke,  as  though  her  desire  to  impress 
the  fact  she  stated  was  strong  enough  to 
undermine  her  control  of  her  voice. 

But  Loring,  looking  at  her,  was  too  fully 
occupied  ia  criticising  her  appearance  to  notice 
the  tone  of  her  voice.  There  must  have  been 
some  society  fraud  at  the  bottom  of  her  re- 
ported illness,  he  decided,  and  that  was  why 
she  was  so  anxious  to  pass  it  over ;  for  cer- 
tainly he  had  never  seen  her  look  better. 
She  was  admirably  dressed,  and  she  was  very 
slightly  and  skilfully  "made  up  ";  a  condition 
new  to  him  iu  her,  and  one  of  which  Marston 
Loriog  emphatically  approved  in  women  past 
their  first  youth.  He  told  himself,  moreover, 
that  either  his  impression  of  her  had  been 
fainter  than  the  reality,  or  else  she  had 
actually  gained  in  what  he  could  only  define 
to  himself — and  define  roughly  and  inade- 
quately as  he  was  well  aware — as  ''grip." 
There  was  the  faintest  flavour  of  nerve  and 
concentration  behind  her  admirable  society 
manner,  which  gave  it  a  wonderful  piquancy 
in  the  eyes  of  her  observer  ;  a  flavour  which 

p  2 


212  A  VALIANT  IGNORANCE 

was  evidently  quite  unconscious  and  involun- 
tary, and  had  its  origin  in  ingrain  character.' 
Loring  admired  power — of  a  certain  class — in 
women. 

In  his  interest  in  her  expression,  and  his 
mental  comments  on  it — determined,  as  they 
could  not  fail  to  be,  by  his  own  character — 
he  was  deceived  by  her  cleverly  arranged 
colouring  into  ignoring  the  almost  painful 
thinness  of  her  face  ;  nor  did  he  understand 
how  hollow  and  sunken  those  glittering  eyes 
would  have  been  less  cleverly  treated. 

She  replied  gaily  to  Lord  Garstin's  gallant 
reception  of  her  assurance,  and  then  turned 
again  to  Loring  with  an  easy  interested 
question  on  his  voyage. 

''You  are  not  the  only  returned  traveller 
to-day  !  "  she  said,  as  he  answered  her.  *'  By- 
the-bye,  Julian,  1  was  on  the  way  to  send 
you  into  the  other  room.  There  is  some  one 
there  you  w'ill  like  to  see  ! " 

She  smiled  significantly  up  at  him,  patting 
his  arm  as  she  spoke,  and  Julian  answered 
with  boyish  eagerness. 

"In  the  other  room?"  he  said.  "Well, 
perhaps  I  ought  just  to  say  how  do  yoa  do, 


A  VALIANT  IGNORANCE  213 

you  know,  oughtn't  I  ?  Loriug,  old  fellow, 
we  shall  meet  again,  of  course  ?  What  are 
you  going  to  do  afterwards  ?  AVe  might 
go  down  to  the  club  together  ?  And  he  must 
come  and  dine  with  us,  mustn't  he,  mother  ? 
Suppose  you  arrange  it !  "  And  with  a  com- 
prehensive gesture  and  another,  "I'll  just 
say  how  do  you  do,  I  think  I"  he  disappeared 
in  the  crowd. 

Mrs.  Romayne  turned  with  a  shrug  of 
her  shoulders  and  a  pretty  expressive  grimace 
to  the  two  men. 

''Poor  boy!"  she  laughed.  "What  a 
thing  it  is  to  be  young  !  And  what  a  tan- 
talising spectacle  a  wedding  must  be  under 
the  circumstances  !  A  pretty  wedding,  wasn't 
it  ? " 

"  An  ugly  wedding  would  be  rather  a 
refreshing  change,  don't  you  think  ? "  sug- 
gested Loring.  "One  has  seen  a  good  many 
pretty  ones,  if  you  come  to  think  of  it  ! " 

"  You're  not  in  the  least  changeil  by  six 
months  in  Africa,"  returned  Mrs.  Romayne, 
shaking  her  head  at  him  prettily.  "Now, 
tell  me,  really,  have  you  had  a  good  time 
out  there  ?  " 


214  A  VALIANT   IGNORANCE 

The  question  was  friendly  and  interested 
after  a  society  fashion,  Ymt  the  interest  was 
entirely  on  the  surface,  and  the  little  talk 
that  followed  about  Loring's  experiences  was 
joined  in  as  a  matter  of  course  by  Lord 
Garstin.  It  lasted  until  Mrs.  Komayne  said 
lightly  : 

"And  now,  I  suppose,  I  ought  to  follow 
Julian's  example  and  'just  say  how  do  you 
do,  don't  you  know ! '  I  have  only  seen 
Mrs.  Pomeroy  in  the  distance  as  yet." 

She  nodded,  and  moved  away,  stopping 
constantly  on  her  way  through  the  rooms 
to  exchange  scraps  of  conversation  until  she 
came  to  where  Mrs.  Pomeroy,  amiable,  inert, 
and  smiling  as  thouQ;h  she  had  been  sittino^ 
there  for  the  last  three  months,  was  holding 
a  small  court.  She  welcomed  Mrs.  Romayne 
as  she  had  welcomed  all  comers. 

"  So  glad  to  see  you,"  she  said  placidly. 
"  Such  a  long  time  !     And  how  are  you  ? " 

"  So  immensely  pleased  to  have  you  back 
again,"  said  Mrs.  Romayne  enthusiastically  ; 
there  was  a  ring  of  genuineness  in  her  voice 
which  the  fcishionable  exagfc^eration  of  her 
speech  hardly  warranted.      "And  you  really 


A  VALIANT  IGNORANCE  215 

only  arrived  yesterday  ?  Miss  Newton — Mrs. 
Compton,  I  mean  — was  in  a  dreadful  state 
of  mind  the  other  day  lest  her  bridesmaid 
should  fail  her.  And  how  is  Maud  ?  How 
sweet  she  looked  !  Quite  the  prettiest  of  the 
six.     Where  is  she  ?  " 

*'  She  was  here  just  now,"  returned  Maud's 
mother,  as  though  that  were  quite  a  satis- 
factory answer  to  the  question,  and  then  as 
an  afterthought  she  added  vaguely  :  "  I  think 
she  went  to  have  an  ice ;  your  son  took 
her." 

"  Ah ! "  said  Mrs.  Romayne,  smiling. 
''Then  there  is  one  perfectly  happy  person 
in  the  house ! " 

Mrs.  Pomeroy  only  smiled  with  vague 
bland ness ;  evidently  the  relations  between 
the  Romaynes  and  the  Pomeroys  had  de- 
veloped extensively  before  the  departure  of 
the  latter  for  Cannes  ;  and  as  evidently  they 
were  quite  undisturbing  to  Miss  Pomeroy's 
mother. 

"  The  bridesmaids'  dresses  were  very  nice, 
I  think,"  she  said,  with  amiable  irrelevancy. 
*'  I  was  afraid  they  sounded  trying.  But  it 
has  been  very  pleasant  altogether,  hasn't  it? 


216  A  VALIANT  IGNORANCE 

I  wish  we  were  going  to  stay  in   town.     We 
had  a  shocking  crossing." 

A  keen  attention  had  sprung  into  Mrs. 
Romayne's  eyes,  and  for  an  instant  it  seemed 
as  though  all  the  society  gaiety  died  from 
her  face,  leaving  exposed  the  hard,  almost 
fiercely  determined,  foundation  on  which  it 
was  imposed.  Then  the  foundation  dis- 
appeared again. 

"  To  stay  in  town !  "  she  echoed  lightly. 
"  Why,  are  you  not  going  to  stay  in  town, 
dear  Mrs.  Pomeroy  ?  " 

"Unfortunately  not,"  was  the  answer. 
^'  My  sister  who  lives  in  Devonshire — I  think 
you  have  heard  me  speak  of  her? — is  ill, 
and  has  begged  me  to  go  and  see  her.  So 
we  are  going  for  a  week  or  ten  days,  I  am 
sorry  to  say." 

''  I  am  sorry  to  hear,"  said  Mrs.  Romayne, 
with  pretty  concern.  "Just  at  the  beginning 
of  the  season,  too.  It's  rather  hard  on  poor 
Maud,  isn't  it?" 

"  Yes,  it  is  hard  on  poor  Maud,  isn't  it  ?  " 
was  the  undisturbed  response. 

There  was  a  moment's  pause,  and  then 
under  her  paint    a  burning  colour   crept   up 


A  YALIANT  IGKOEANCE  217 

to  the  very  roots  of  Mrs.  Eomayne's  hair,  and 
her  eyes  shone. 

"  My  dear  Mrs.  Pomeroy,"  she  began 
gaily,  but  speaking  rather  quickly,  too,  and 
in  a  higher  pitch  than  was  usual  with  her, 
"don't  you  remember,  months  ago,  premising 
to  lend  me  Maud  |^for  a  little  while  ?  This 
is  the  very  opportunity.  Of  course,"  she 
lowered  her  voice  a  little,  *'  I  wouldn't  pro- 
pose it  if  you  did  not  know  quite  as  well  as 
I  do  how  the  land  lies.  But,  as  I  think  we 
two  old  mothers  are  of  one  mind  on  that 
point,  I  shan't  scruple.  Let  Maud  come^  to 
me,  if  she  will,  while  you  are  in  Devonshire. 
Ob,  of  course  it  needn't  mean  anything — it's 
an  old  promise,  you  know,  and  she  and  I 
are  great  friends  on  our  own  account.  Talk 
of  the  angels  !  "  she  went  on  gaily,  nodding 
towards  a  slim,  white  figure  coming  towards 
them  with  Julian  in  its  immediate  wake. 

Maud  Pomeroy  was  looking  as  pretty  and 
as  proper  as  she  had  looked  every  day  since 
she  had  emerged  from  the  school -room,  but 
there  was  a  little  flush  on  her  face  wdiich 
was  not  habitual  to  her.  She  returned 
Mrs.    Eomayne's   greeting  with    the   grateful 


218  A  VALIANT  IGNORANCE 

cordiality  so  pretty  from  a  girl  to  an  older 
womau,  evinced  as  was  her  wont  more  by 
manner  than  by  speech ;  nnd  indeed  Mrs. 
Komayne  gave  her  little  time  for  speech. 

"Your  mother  has  been  telling  me  of 
this  dreadful  Devonshire  business  ! "  she 
said.  "And  I've  had  what  I  flatter  myself 
is  a  happy  thought !  I  want  you  to  come 
to  me,  Maud,  dear,  while  your  mother  is 
away.  You  know  you-  promised  ages  ago 
to  let  yourself  be  lent  to  me  for  a  little 
while,  and  this  is  the  very  opportunity, 
isn't  it?" 

It  would  not  have  been  "  the  thing " 
under  the  circumstances  that  any  one  of 
the  trio  should  glance  at  Julian  ;  consequently 
no  one  noticed  the  curious  flash  of  expression 
that  passed  across  his  face  as  his  mother 
spoke.  Maud  Pomeroy  hesitated  and  looked 
dutifully  at  her  mother. 

"  It's  very  kind  of  Mrs.  Romayne,  Maud, 
dear,  isn't  it  ? "  said  Mrs.  Pomeroy  with  non- 
committal amiability. 

"It  is  sweet  of  her,"  responded  Maud 
prettily. 

"  Well,  then,  do  let  us  consider  it  settled. 


A  VALIANT  IGNORANCE  219 

I  shall  enjoy  it  of  all  things.  When  do 
you  go,  dear  Mrs.  Pomeroy  ?  To-morrow 
week  ?  Oh,  it  will  be  too  tantalising  to 
whisk  Mand  away  when  she  had  just  begun 
to  enjoy  herself ;  wouldn't  it,  Maud  ? " 

Miss  Pomeroy  hesitated  again,  and  the 
colour  on  her  cheeks  deepened  by  just  a 
shade.  She  did  nofc  glance  at  her  mother 
this  time. 

"  Thank  you  very  much,"  she  said  at 
last.  "But  shan't  I  be  a  nuisance  to 
you?" 

There  was  just  the  touch  of  charmingly 
■conventional  demur  in  her  tone  which  made 
her  submission  seem,  as  all  her  actions 
seemed,  the  result  of  a  gentle,  easily  in- 
fluenced temperament.  Mrs.  Komayne  as- 
sured her  merrily  that  she  would  indeed  be 
a  terrible  nuisance,  but  that  she  herself  would 
do  her  best  to  bear  it,  and  then  rose,  her 
eyes  very  bright. 

"  I  must  run  away  now,"  she  said.  "  I'm 
so  delighted  that  we've  settled  it.  Let  me 
know  when  to  expect  you,  then,  dear.  Good- 
bye, Mrs.  Pomeroy ;  I'Jl  take  every  care  of 
3^our    child    and    return    her  when   you  want 


220  A  YALTANT   IGNORANCE 

her — only  dou't  let  it  be  too  soon  !  I  needn't 
take  you  away,  sir,"  she  continued,  turning 
to  Julian.  He  had  been  standing  by  ever 
since  that  flash  had  passed  over  his  face 
with  an  expression  of  eager  interest  in  the 
discussion.  *'  I  dare  say  you're  not  in  any 
hurry.  No,  you  need  not  even  come  down- 
stairs with  me.  I  see  Mr.  Loring.  Hell 
take  care  of  me,  I'm  sure." 

Mr.  Loring,  who  was  within  hearing,  as 
the  tone  of  the  words  implied — indeed,  they 
were  more  than  half  addressed  to  him— came 
up  promptly. 

"  For  how  long  may  I  have  that  privi- 
lege ? "  he  said. 

She  explained  to  him  lightly  as  he  shook 
hands  with  Mrs.  Pomeroy  and  her  daughter, 
and  then  with  another  farewell  and  a  pretty, 
affectionate  "  Au  revoiv !''  to  Julian,  she 
turned  away  with  him. 

He  put  her  into  her  carriage  and  she  held 
out  her  hand  with  a  gesture  of  thanks  and 
farewell. 

"  Thanks,"  she  said  ;  her  tone  and  manner 
alike  were  very  friendly  and  familiar  in  the 
exaggerated  style  which  had  certainly  grown 


A  YALIANT   IGNORANCE  221 

on  her ;  and  they  seemed  to  imply  something 
beyond  the  superficial  interest  to  which  she  had 
kept,  perforce,  in  her  society  intercourse  with 
him.  "  It  is  so  pleasant  to  see  you  again  ! 
When  will  you  come  to  see  me  quietly  ? 
Before  you  are  hard  at  work,  you  kaow ! 
To-morrow,  now  ?  To-morrow  happens  to 
be  a  free  day  with  me.  Come  to  tea. 
Good  bye ! " 


CHAPTER   XII 

Tp:x  miuiites  after  Mrs.  Romayne's  departure 
Julian  was  standing  before  Mrs.  Pomeroy,  his 
whole  demeanour  typical  of  the  man  who 
lingers,  knowing  that  he  should  lioger  no 
longer. 

"  What  a  nuisance  appointments  are  !  "  he 
said,  with  a  boyish  frankness  of  discontent 
which  was  irresistible.  "  I  wish  I  could  stay 
a  little  longer,  but  I  know  I  oughtn't."  He 
laughed  quite  ruefully,  and  fixed  a  pair  of 
ardent  eyes  on  Miss  Pomeroy 's  demurely- 
averted  face.  "  It's  been  such  an  awfully 
jolly  affair,  hasn't  it  ?  And  it's  so  awfully 
jolly  to  have  you  in  town  again  " — this,  with 
delightful  deference,  to  Mrs.  Pomeroy.  "  Well, 
I  really  must  go,  you  know !  Good-bye ! 
Perhaps  you  won't  be  staying  very  much 
longer  ? " 


A  VALIANT   IGNORANCE  223 

''  If  you  stay  here  bemoaning  yourself 
very  much  longer  we  shall  probably  leave 
before  you  do!"  suggested  Miss  Pomeroy, 
with  the  rather  faint  smile  which  was  the 
only  sigQ  of  amusement  she  ever  gave,  and 
which  always  accompanied  her  own  mild 
witticisms.     Julian  turned  to  her  eagerly. 

'^Now,  that's  awfully  unkind!"  he  said. 
''  You  w^on't  bully  me  like  that  in  Queen 
Anne  Street,  will  you  ? "  The  term  ''  bully- 
ing "  was  so  profoundly  inapplicable  to  Miss 
Pomeroy's  words  that  its  use  suggested  a 
certain  amount  of  arrangement  rather  thiin 
absolute  spontaneity  about  Julian's  speech. 
But  exaggeration  was  the  fashion,  and  not  to 
be  commented  on.  ''Come  in  a  very  kind 
frame  of  mind,  w^on't  you?"  he  went  on 
pleadingly. 

"  Am  I  a  very  violent  person  ? "  the 
girl  answered,  with  the  same  smile.  *'  Good- 
bye !  "  She  held  out  her  hand  as  she 
spoke,  and  Julian  took  it  with  laughing 
reluctance. 

"  You  are  an  absolutely  heartless  person," 
he  said  daringly,  "  to  dismiss  me  like  this  ! 
However,   I  suppose  you  are  right.     If  you 


224.  A  VALIANT  IGNORANCE 

didn't  dismiss  me  I  probably  sliouldii't  go, 
and  I  really  ought,  you  kaow !  " 

"  You've  told  us  that  before  ;  now  do  it ! " 
was  the  answer.     "  Good-bye  !  " 

"  Good-bye  !  "  returned  Julian,  with  mock 
meekness.  He  shook  hands  again,  which 
seemed  hardly  necessary,  and  then  he  turned 
away. 

But  the  necessity  which  enforced  his  de- 
parture had  apparently  slackened  its  pressure 
on  him  by  the  time  he  actually  lefc  the  house. 
As  he  walked  away  down  the  street  there  was 
no  sign  about  him  of  that  haste  which  should 
characterise  a  man  who  has  lingered  to  the 
risking  of  an  appointment,  or  who  has, 
indeed,  any  engagement  in  immediate  pro- 
spect. The  bride  and  bridegroom  had  already 
left,  and  people  were  beginning  to  go,  and 
until  he  reached  the  end  of  the  street  in 
which  was  Mrs.  Halse's  house,  he  was  passed 
every  instant  by  carriages  to  whose  occupants 
his  hat  had  to  be  smilingly  lifted.  Then 
he  turned  into  a  main  thoroughfare,  and  hailed 
a  hansom — still  not  in  the  least  like  a  man 
in  a  hurry.  He  gave  the  cabman  an  address 
in  the  Temple,  and  was  driven  away. 


A  VALIANT  IGNORANCE  225 

His  face  as  he  went  would  have  been  a 
curious  study  to  any  onlooker  possessed  of 
the  key  to  its  expression ;  to  any  onlooker 
who  could  have  detected  the  constant  struggle 
for  dominance  between  something  that  seemed 
to  lie  behind  its  new  artificiality  and  that 
artificiality  itself,  evidently  maintained  under 
an  instinctive  sense  of  the  chances  of  obser- 
vation. It  was  not  until  he  turned  his  key 
in  the  lock  of  a  set  of  chambers  in  the  Temple 
that  the  boyish  vivacity  died  wholly  out 
of    his   face ;    he    went    into    his    room — he 

shared   the   chambers   with    another    embryo 

• 

barrister  —  shutting  the  door  behind  him  ; 
and  as  he  did  so  he  seemed  to  have  shut 
in,  not  the  light-hearted  young  fellow  who 
had  paid  the  cabman  in  the  street  below, 
but  another  man  altogether.  No  one  look- 
ing at  him  now  could  doubt  that  this  was 
the  real  Julian  Romayne  of  to-day,  as  cer- 
tainly as  that  light-hearted  young  fellow 
had  been  the  real  Julian  Romayne  of  a 
year  ago.  This  was  a  man  with  a  hard, 
angry  face ;  a  face  on  which  the  anger 
stood  revealed,  not  as  the  expression  of  the 
moment,    but    as    the    normal   expression   of 

VOL.  II  Q 


226'  A  VALIANT  IGNORANCE 

a  mind  always  sore,  always  at  war,  olways 
fiercely  implacable. 

The  room  was  plainly,  almost  barely 
furnished,  and  there  was  no  trace  of  any  of 
the  luxury  that  surrounded  him  in  Queen 
Anne  Street.  His  smart,  carefully  got-up 
figure  looked  absolutely  incongruous  among 
such  unusual  surroundings,  as  he  crossed  to 
the  window,  and  flinging  himself  down  in 
a  shabby  easy-chair,  lighted  a  cigarette.  He 
threw  his  cigarette-case  on  the  table,  and 
then  drew  out  of  the  breast-pocket  of  his  coat 
a  couple  of  letters. 

He  had  read  them  before,  evidently,  but 
as  evidently  they  had  lost  none  of  their 
interest  for  him.  He  read  them  both  through 
attentively,  and  as  he  did  so  there  came  to 
his  mouth  a  set  which  his  mother,  could  she 
have  seen  it,  would  have  recognised  instantly  ; 
which  any  one,  indeed,  must  have  recognised 
who  had  ever  seen  his  dead  father.  Both  the 
letters  dealt  with  money  matters ;  one  was 
from  a  bookmaker,  the  other  from  a  broker 
whose  name  was  far  from  bearing  an  un- 
blemished character  in  the  City ;  and  both 
referred  to  large  sums  of  money  recently  made 


A  YALIAKT  IGNORANCE  227 

on  the  turf  and  on  the  Stock  Exchange  by 
Julian  Eomayne. 

He  flun2^  the  last  on  the  table  as  he 
finished  it,  and  there  was  an  expression  in 
liis  eyes  of  reckless,  rebellious  triumph  not 
good  to  see. 

"  It's  a  good  haul ! "  he  said,  half  aloud. 
^' A   good  haul!     Now,   with    what   I've  got 

already "     He   rose    and    went    across  to 

the  writing-table,  unlocked  a  drawer,  and 
taking  out  various  papers,  began  to  make 
rapid  calculations. 

Then — his  eyes  hard  and  intent  on  ^his 
work — he  stretched  out  his  hand  and  felt  in 
the  drawer  for  another  paper.  He  took  out 
an  envelope,  and  drew  out  the  letter  it  con- 
tained without  glancing  at  it.  A  folded  paper 
fell  out  as  he  did  so,  and  as  though  the  slight 
sound  had  roused  him,  he  glanced  at  it 
quickly,  and  from  it  to  tlie  open  letter  in  his 
hand.  Apparently  it  was  not  the  letter  to 
which  he  had  intended  to  refer,  for  bis  face 
changed  suddenly  and  completely. 

*'  I  can't  take  your  money.  Try  and  un- 
derstand that  I  can't ! — Clemence." 

His  fingers  tightened  upon  the  thin  sheet 


228  A  VALIANT   IGNORANCE 

of  paper  until  the  knuckles  whitened,  and 
the  eager  calculation  vanished  utterly  from 
his  face,  overwhelmed  as  it  seemed  by  the 
fierce  tumult  of  warring  passions  that  struggled 
now  in  every  line.  Impotent  anger  which 
was  the  more  violent  for  something  within 
itself  which  was  not  anger ;  reckless  defiance  ; 
a  wild,  raging  desperation  behind  all,  which 
was  nearly  hatred  ;  all  these  emotions  were 
faintly  shadowed  forth  on  his  face  as  he 
stared  down  at  the  few  simple  words.  All 
these  emotions  had  been  surging  in  his  heart 
during  the  six  months  that  were  gone,  and 
it  was  their  unceasing  strife  and  tumult  which 
was  rousing  into  life  the  new  Julian  Eomayne, 
latent  for  so  many  years. 

It  was  to  that  which  was  least  broadly 
painted  on  his  face  that  all  these  passionate 
forces  owed  their  life.  As  with  a  wild  animal 
wounded  by  a  dart,  and  feeling  that  dart — 
lodged  in  his  side — pricking  and  piercing 
him,  who  plunges  wildly  hither  and  thither, 
chafing  and  striving  in  blind,  brute  fashion 
to  rid  himself  of  the  sensation  he  cannot 
understand  ;  and  in  his  very  efforts  presses 
in  the  cause  of  his  pain,  increases  his  suffer- 


A  VALIANT  IGNORANCE  229 

ings,  and  again  redoubles  his  struggles  and 
his  fury,  not  knowing  that  he  is  his  own 
tormentor ;  so  it  had  been,  in  a  sense,  with 
Julian  Romayne  during  the  last  six  months. 
The  dart  in  his  case  was  double-edged ;  its 
edges  were  the  strange,  weak  reality  of  his 
love  for  Clemence,  and  a  stinging  sense  of 
shame.  It  had  lodged  in  that  almost  inani- 
mate better  part  of  his  nature.  He  had  left 
that  little  room  in  Camden  Town  smarting 
and  wincing  under  it,  and  it  had  never  ceased 
to  prick  him  since.  Scarcely  less  blind  and 
ignorant  under  such  circumstances  than  ^'  a 
beast  having  no  understanding^ "  in  his  total 
want  of  all  principle,  except  the  principles  of 
w^orldly  wisdom,  with  his  utterly  dormant 
moral  perception — his  morality,  such  as  it 
was,  being  the  merest  matter  of  habit  and 
conventionality  —  the  effect  on  him  of  the 
smart  was  first  the  developement  in  him  of 
a  blind,  unreasoning  resentment ;  and  then, 
as  anger  proved  of  no  avail,  a  passionate 
rousing  and  rising  of  all  his  latent  forces  in 
repudiation  of  his  discomfort. 

To  charge  upon  some  one   else  the  diffi- 
culties which  he  had  created  for  himself,  to 


230  A  VALIANT  IGNORANCE 

provide  some  object  against  which  his  blind 
sense  of  wrath  and  rebellion  could  pit  itself, 
was  a  primary  instinct  with  such  a  nature 
as  Julian's,  so  situated,  and  that  object  was 
ready  to  his  hand.  The  first  article  in  the 
faith  of  the  new  Julian  Eomayne  was  the 
belief  that  he  had  been  forced  into  his 
present  position  by  his  mother ;  that  he 
had  been  parted  from  his  wife  by  his  mother ; 
that  he  had  been  covered  with  humiliation 
by  his  mother.  Every  fresh  stab,  every 
movement  of  revolt,  as  that  two-edged  dart 
pressed  itself  deeper  into  his  consciousness 
with  every  struggle  he  made  for  freedom, 
added  something  to  the  account  he  held 
ao-ainst  her :  increased  the  bitterness  of  his 
resentment  against,  her  and  brought  it  one 
degree  nearer  to  hatred.  His  love  for  her, 
in  spite  of  its  charm  of  expression,  had  been 
the  merest  boyish  sentiment ;  with  no  roots 
deeper  than  those  afforded  by  easy  companion- 
ship and  apparent  indulgence ;  founded  on 
habit  and  expediency  rather  than  on  respect. 
Real  devotion  would  have  seemed  out  of 
place  in  the  atmosphere  of  affectation  and 
superficiality  in  which  he    had    been   reared. 


A  VALIANT  IGNOEANCE  231 

and  he  had  known  only  its  travesty.  On 
this,  the  first  real  conflict  between  his  will 
and  hers,  that  travesty  showed  itself  for 
what  it  was,  and  shrivelled  into  nothingness. 
To  free  himself  from  her  control,  became  the 
one  object  and  desire  of  his  life.  In  doing 
this,  and  in  doing  this  only,  to  his  distorted 
perceptions,  lay  release  fi'oni  the  stinging, 
goading  misery  of  his  present  life,  and  to  do 
this  one  means  only  was  adequate — money. 
With  money  at  his  command  the  victory,  as 
he  conceived  it,  would  be  his.  Some  centre, 
some  mainspring  had  necessarily  to  grow 
up  in  the  confused  strivings  and  blind, 
desperate  impulses  of  a  newly  -  awakened 
nature,  and  gradually  that  centre  had  de- 
clared itself  in  an  unreasoning  determination 
to  make  money. 

Bat  there  were  in  Julian  Eomayne 
tendencies,  latent,  or  nearly  so,  throughout 
his  youth  and  early  manhood ;  manifested 
during  those  easy,  untempted  periods  only  in  a 
slight  superficiality,  a  slight  want  of  perception 
as  to  the  boundary  line  between  truth  and 
falsehood  ;  but  radical  factors  in  his  being.  In 
the  shock  and  jar  of  the  mental  struggle  and 


232  A  VALIANT  IGNORANCE 

quickening  involved  in  the  continued  presence 
in  his  consciousness  of  that  remorseless  dart, 
these   tendencies   leapt   into    over-stimulated 
life  and  grew,  strengthened,   and  developed, 
with    the    unnatural   rapidity   of    such    life, 
until  his  whole  character  seemed  to  be  over- 
shadowed  by   them.       In    Julian    Romayne's 
being,  woven   in  and   out  with    the    threads 
which    had   hitherto   seemed   so   pliable   and 
colourless ;  those  threads   of  all  shades,  from 
pure   white   to   dark   grey,    which    make    up 
character  in   every  man ;    were  sundry  grim 
black    threads — threads  such  as  are   only  to 
be  plucked  out  when  the  very  heart's  blood 
of  the  man  has  spent  itself  in  the  struggle, 
and   when    in    that    struggle    he    has    come 
very  near  to  God.     It  may  be  that  the  sins 
of    the    fathers    are    indeed   visited    on    the 
children  in    this   sense ;    in  the   dictation   of 
the   form    taken    by  that   struggle  with  evil 
which  is  every  man's  portion ;  and  sometimes 
— for  purposes  of  which  no  man  may  presume 
to   judge — in  the  exceptional   agony  of  that 
struggle.     Julian  Eomayne,  the  son  of  a  liar 
and  thief,  and,  moreover,  of  a  woman  whose 
morality  was  the  morality  of  conventionality 


A  VALIANT  IGNORANCE  233 

.and  notliing  more,  had  an  instinctive  faculty 
for,  an  instinctive  inclination  towards,  dis- 
honesty of  word  and  deed.  Such  a  twist 
of  his  moral  consciousness  as  had  been  pre- 
dicted for  him,  a  little  child  of  five  years  old, 
by  Dr.  Aston,  had  lain  dormant  among  the 
possibilities  of  his  being  throughout  the 
nineteen  years  that  intervened.  It  was  this 
inheritance  which,  in  the  sudden  upheaval  of 
his  moral  nature,  had  awakened,  asserted 
itself,  and  seized,  as  it  were,  the  first  place  in 
his  nature. 

Throughout  his  boyhood,  easy  as  it  had 
been,  untouched  by  any  strong  passion  or 
desire,  he  had  lied  now  and  again,  naturally 
and  instinctively.  He  had  lied  to  save 
himself  trouble,  to  save  himself  some  sh'ght 
reproach — as  he  had  lied  to  his  mother  on 
the  subject  of  his  visit  to  Alexandria,  to  save 
himself  from  the  confession  of  having  for- 
gotten her  commission.  He  had  lied  to 
Clemence  from  first  to  last,  and  the  first 
prick  of  that  dart,  which  was  now  his  constant 
•companion,  had  touched  him  when  he  first 
felt  shame  for  those  lies.  But  there  was  a 
reckless,  calculating  deception  about  his  life 


234  A  VALIANT  IGNORANCE 

now  wliicli  went  deeper  and  meant  more. 
He  lied  to  liis  mother  with  every  word  and 
action,  and  with  the  unreasoning  cruelty  of 
his  mental  attitude  towards  her  —  there  is 
nothinsf  towards  which  a  maa  can  be  so 
heartless  as  the  object  to  which  he  has  trans- 
ferred his  own  wrong-doing — he  hugged  his 
deception  of  her,  and  revelled  in  the  sense  of 
independence  and  power  it  gave  him.  The 
endless  deception  which  the  fundamental  falsity 
of  his  present  life  necessitated,  radiated  on 
every  side.  To  please  his  mother,  as  he  told 
himself  with  an  ugly  smile,  he  had  flirted  with 
Miss  Pomeroy  in  the  early  part  of  the  winter 
until — a  certain  distance  in  her  manner  to 
him  melting — he  had  hailed  her  departure 
for  Cannes  as  a  blessed  reprieve.  He  had 
flirted  with  her  this  afternoon  at  Mrs.  Halse's, 
excited  by  the  news  contained  in  the  two 
letters  he  had  since  re-read,  reckless  in  the 
prospect  of  release  they  brought  nearer  to 
him,  and  with  a  certain  delight  in  the  daring 
defiance  of  consequences.  He  had  lied  to 
Lord  Garstin  when  that  good-natured  mentor 
had  let  fall  a  warning  word  as  to  the  **  bad 
form "    of    gambling  ;    he   lied    to    his   coach 


A  VALIANT  IGNORANCE  235 

wheu  Lis  frequent  absences  were  commented 
on. 

In  that  desperate  craving  for  money,  in 
which  all  the  passion  of  his  life  was  centering 
itself,  dishonesty  of  deed  was  the  natural  and 
inevitable  corollary  of  dishonesty  of  word. 
The  possession  of  money  was  his  one  object 
in  life ;  his  conscience  as  to  the  means  by 
which  that  money  was  to  be  obtained  he 
deliberately  put  into  abeyance  for  the  time 
being.  He  had  become  possessed  in  the 
course  of  the  last  six  months  of  some 
thousands,  not  one  of  which  had  been 
earned  by  honest  work ;  much  of  w^iich 
had  come  to  him  by  more  than  questionable 
means. 

That  two  -  edged  dart  must  have  been 
finely  tempered  that  it  never  seemed  to 
blunt !  The  dormant  life  in  that  hidier 
part  of  him,  to  which  it  had  penetrated, 
must  have  been  life  indeed,  that  it  should 
throb  and  quiver  stronger  and  stronger, 
side  by  side  with  all  that  was  lowest  and 
worst  in  him,  makiner  the  struo^gle  sfrow 
always  fiercer,  and  goading  him  on  and  on. 
The  dart  owed  its  edge,  the  life  its  growing 


236  A  VALIANT  IGNORANCE 

sensitiveness,  to  a  touch  wliicli  lay  always 
on  Julian's  consciousness,  liauntiiig  liim 
nigbt  and  day.  Not  to  be  driven  away  or 
obliterated ;  not  to  be  crowded  out  of  his 
soul  by  any  stress  of  evil  passion  ;  a  white 
light  on  the  soiled,  tangled  web  of  his 
life,  which  shone  steadily  in  the  strength  of 
a  power  no  struggle  of  his  could  touch ;  was 
the  thought  of  Clemence.  Clemence,  who 
had  trusted  him  ;  Clemence,  hoping,  longing, 
loving  him,  as  he  knew  in  every  wretched 
fibre ;  Clemence,  for  whose  presence  he  longed 
at  times  with  a  heart-sickness  of  lonsrinof  which 
reacted  in  a  very  orgy  of  passionate  bitterness. 
He  had  received  a  note  from  her  a  few  days 
after  her  disappearance,  telling  him  in  a  few 
simple  words  that  she  had  got  work ;  that 
she  relied  on  him  not  to  drive  her  out  of  it 
by  trying  to  see  her,  until  he  ''  was  ready," 
as  she  phrased  it.  Again  and  again  a  reckless 
impulse  to  see  her,  and  force  his  will  upon 
her,  had  seized  him,  but  something  had 
always  held  him  back.  Again  and  again 
he  had  sent  her  money,  always  to  have  it 
returned  to  him  with  a  little  line  of  hope 
or  patience.     In  the  reception  of  those  notes ; 


A  VALIANT  IGNOEANCE  237 

ill  the  writhing  love,  and  longing,  and  shame 
they  stirred  in  him,  the  dart  went  home  and 
tortured  him  indeed. 

He  crushed  the  sheet  of  common  note- 
paper  almost  fiercely  in«  his  hand  now,  and 
thrust  it  away  to  the  back  of  the  drawer 
from  which  it  had  come.  He  caught  up  the 
paper  which  had  fallen  from  it — the  cheque 
he  had  sent  her  three  days  before — and  tore 
it  savagely  into  fragments.  Then  he  swept 
the  papers  on  which  he  had  been  busy  un- 
heedingly  into  a  drawer,  locked  it  sharply, 
and  rose,  white  to  the  very  lips. 

"  It  can't  be  long  now,"  he  mutterecl. 
''It  shan't  be!  Men  make  their  piles  in  a 
day — in  an  hour ;  why  should  not  I  ?  It 
shan't  be  long  !  " 

He  stood  for  a  moment,  his  hand  clenched, 
his  features  compressed,  his  eyes  full  of  a 
sullen  fire.  Then  he  turned  sharply  away 
and  left  the  room. 

There  was  no  trace  of  any  fire  about 
him,  however,  except  the  harmless  irradiation 
of  youth  and  good  spirits,  when  he  opened 
the  door  of  his  mother's  drawino^-room  a  few 
minutes    before  their  dinner- hour.      He  had 


238  A  VALIANT   IGNORANCE 

spent  the  interveniog  hour  at  his  club,  the 
most  lightly  good-Datured,  and  thoroughly 
easy-going  and  irresponsible  young  man  there, 
and  there  was  precisely  the  same  character 
about  him  now  as  he  crossed  the  room  to  his 
mother. 


CHAPTER   XIII 

There  had  been  a  slight,  sudden  movement 
as  Julian  opened  the  door,  as  though  Mrs. 
Romayne  had  changed  her  attitude  quickly. 
She  was  leaning  forward  now,  looking  at  an 
illustrated  paper,  but  the  cushions  behind 
her  were  tumbled  and  crushed,  as  if  she 
had  been  leaning  back  on  them,  and  leaning 
heavily.  She  was  wearing  a  tea-gown,  and 
she  seemed  to  keep  her  face  rather  carefully 
in  shadow. 

*'  Rather  an  amusing  party,  wasn't  it  ? " 
she  said  lightly,  looking  up  as  he  came  in. 
*'  Everybody  goes  to  that  woman's.  I  can't 
imagine  why.  Well,  and  is  there  any  news, 
sir  ? " 

'*  I'm  afraid  not,"  returned  Julian  gaily. 
"  I've  spent  an  hour  at  the  club   to  try  and 


240  A  VALIANT   IGNORANCE 

pick  up  some  crumbs  for  you,  but  there  was 
nothincj  oroincf." 

The  manner  of  each  to  the  other  was 
precisely  the  same,  now  that  they  were  alone 
together,  as  it  had  been  when  they  addressed 
one  another  incidentally  in  the  course  of  general 
conversation.  The  very  familiarity  between 
them  had  a  flavour  of  artificiality  about  it, 
and  that  flavour  was  mainly  given,  strangely 
enough,  by  Mrs.  Romayne  rather  than  by 
Julian.  It  was  her  manner,  not  his,  that  lacked 
ease  and  overdid  the  spontaneity.  They  chatted 
brightly  about  men  and  things,  but  she  never 
asked  him  a  single  personal  question,  though 
at  any  incidental  allusion  let  fall  by  him  as  to 
his  doings  a  faint  contraction  of  the  muscles 
about  her  eyes  gave  her  a  hungry,  con- 
centrated look,  as  of  a  creature  catching  at 
a  crumb.  It  seemed  to  be  in  a  great  measure 
that  tendency  to  keen  intentness  of  ex- 
pression which  had  so  greatly  altered  her 
face. 

"You  see  I've  been  lazy!"  she  said 
lightly,  indicating  her  dress  with  a  slight 
gesture  as  they  sat  down  to  dinner.  They 
were    oroino^    out   in    the    evening,    and    she 


A  VALIANT   IGNORANCE  241 

usually  dressed  before  dinner  on  sucli  oc- 
casions. "  I  really  couldn't  be  bothered 
to  dress  before  !  " 

The  lamplight  was  fall  on  her  face  now, 
and  Julian,  his  attention  drawn  to  her  by  the 
words,  saw  that  she  looked  frightfully  haggard 
and  worn  under  her  paint  and  her  little  air  of 
gaiety.  Paint  had  ceased  to  be  an  appendage 
of  full  dress  with  her  since  her  three  days' 
illness.  The  combination  added  a  touch  of 
repulsion  to  his  feeling  towards  her.  But  his 
tone  as  he  answered  her  was  the  tone  of 
affectionate  concern,  over-elaborated  by  the 
merest  shade  only. 

"  You've  not  over-tired  yourself,  I  hope, 
dear  ?  "  he  said.  ''  I  don't  believe  you  ought 
to  go  out  again  to-night,  do  you  know !  " 

Mrs.  Romayne's  thin  fingers  were  tearing 
fiercely  at  the  pocket-handkerchief  in  her  lap 
as  he  spoke,  and  her  eyes  were  bright  with 
pain.  It  seemed  as  though  her  ears  had 
caught  that  subtle  shade  of  over-elaboration, 
though  they  must  have  been  quick  indeed  to 
do  so.  But  she  answered,  almost  before  he 
had  finished  speaking,  in  a  rather  high-pitched 
tone  of  eao-er  determination. 

o 

VOL.   II  R 


242  A  VALIANT  IGNORANCE 

"  Silliest  of  boys,"  she  said ;  **  the  topic 
is  threadbare.  I  am  quite  well  !  Oh,  it  is 
very  evident  that  my  retiring  to  bed  for  a 
day  or  two  is  an  unparalleled  event,  or  you 
would  not  be  quite  so  slow  in  grasping  the 
fact  that  it  is  possible  to  recover  after  such 
a  terrific  crisis  !  Now,  do  promise  not  to  talk 
any  more  about  what  you  don't  in  the  least 
understand  !  " 

The  merriment  of  her  tone  was  fictitious, 
even  to  Julian's  unheeding  ear,  but  he  took 
it  up  with  a  mental  shrug  of  his  shoulders. 
It  was  not  his  fault,  he  told  himself,  if  she 
would  overdo  herself  for  the  sake  of  a  little 
excitement. 

He  told  himself  the  same  thing,  carelessly 
enough,  when  he  put  her  into  her  carriage 
two  or  three  hours  later.  It  was  early  ;  Mrs. 
Komayne  had  declared  the  party  to  be  in- 
sufferably dull  and  had  stayed  only  half 
an  hour,  during  which  time  she  had  been 
as  vivacious  and  attractive  as  usual.  But 
towards  the  end  her  eyes  had  become 
feverishly  bright,  and  Julian,  as  he  took  her 
out,  could  feel  that  she  was  tremblino'  from 
head  to  foot. 


A  VALIANT   IGNORANCE  243 

*'  Are  you  coming  home  ? "  she  said  to 
him. 

'*  Well,  if  you  don't  mind,  dear,  I  was 
thinking  of  going  to  look  up  Loring  at  the 
club." 

A  breath  of  relief  parted  Mrs.  Romayne's 
lips,  and  she  answered  hastily.  Apparently 
she  had  no  desire  for  her  son's  company  on  her 
way  home. 

"  Go,  by  all  means!"  she  said.  ''Of  course 
I  don't  mind  !  " 

She  pulled  up  the  window  almost  abruptly, 
nodding  to  him  with  a  smile,  the  singular 
ghastliness  of  which  was,  presumably,  referable 
to  some  effect  of  gaslight.  Then  as  the  carriage 
rolled  away  she  sank  back  and  let  her  face 
relax  into  an  expression  of  utter  weariness, 
with  a  little,  gasping  catch  of  her  breath  as  of 
deadly  physical  exhaustion. 

His  words  about  Loring  had  been  a  mere 
figure  of  speech  on  Julian's  part,  but 
he  did  intend  to  go  to  the  club,  and  he 
carried  his  intention  into  effect.  He  glanced 
round  the  smoking-room  as  he  went  in  to  see 
if  Loring  was  there,  but  the  fact  that  he  was 
not  visible   in   no   way   affected  his   serenity. 

R  2 


244  A  VALIANT  IGNORANCE 

He  was  so  altered  from  the  boy  of  a 
twelvemonth  before,  and  his  intercourse  with 
Loring  had  been  so  completely  suspended 
during  the  period  of  his  developement,  that 
their  friendship  saemed  now  to  belong  to 
some  previous  phase  of  his  existence ;  it 
was  his  sense  that  he  had  passed  utterly 
out  of  touch  with  the  man  with  whom 
he  had  once  been  intimate,  together  with  a 
conviction  that  Loring's  keen  perceptions 
would  be  by  no  means  a  desirable  factor  in  his 
surroundings  at  the  moment,  that  had  dictated 
his  demonstration  of  delight  at  Loring's  re- 
appearance. An  outward  show  of  enthusiasm 
was  a  very  effective  blind,  in  his  opinion. 

His  manner  was  regulated  on  the  same 
principle  on  Loring's  appearance  in  the 
smokino^-room  about  half  an  hour  later.  He 
was  on  his  way  to  the  card- room,  and  he  was 
anything  but  pleased  at  the  frustration  of  his 
plans  in  that  direction  ;  but  his  reception  of 
Loring  indicated,  rather,  that  he  had  spent  the 
last  half-hoar  in  watching  for  him. 

'*  Here  you  are  at  last,  old  man  !  "  he  cried. 
"  I  thought  you'd  turnup  some  time  or  other ! 
What  became  of  you  this  afternoon  ?     I  never 


A  VALIANT   IGNORANCE  245 

saw  you  after  you  disappeared  with  my 
mother." 

The  two  men  had  met  close  to  the  door, 
and  tbey  were  still  standing,  Loring,  as  hlase 
and  imperturbable-looking  as  usual,  with  his 
observant  eyes  on  Julian's  face. 

"I  didn't  care  to  spoil  sport !  "  he  returned 
with  a  significant  smile.  ''You  seemed  to  be 
particularly  well  employed  !  " 

Julian  laughed  —  the  conscious,  not  ill- 
pleased  laugh  which  belonged  to  his  part. 
Such  contingencies  were  all  incidental  to 
the  situation. 

"  Oh,  come,  old  boy,"  he  said  deprecat- 
ingiy.  Then  he  laughed  agam,  and  added  : 
"  I  suppose  my  mother  said  something  to 
you  ? " 

"No!"  returned  Loring  quietly.  "I 
happen  to  have  eyes,  you  see  ! " 

"  Don't  make  magnifying  glasses  of  them, 
then!"  was  the  laughing  retort.  ''Now 
then,  there  are  several  fellows  here  who 
have  been  asking  for  you." 

But  as  Julian  glanced  round  he  became 
aware  that  the  room  chanced  to  be  almost 
empty.     Loring  understood  at  the  same  time 


246  A  VALIANT   IGNORANCE 

that  he  had  wished  to  make  the  conversation 
general  and  impersonal,  and  a  slight  smile 
touched  his  lips. 

Marston  Loring  had  various  reasons  of 
his  own  for  not  intending  to  allow  himself 
to  be  eluded  by  Julian  Komayne.  The 
change  in  the  young  man  alone  would  have 
excited  his  curiosity ;  and  sundry  details 
which  had  already  come  to  his  knowledge, 
notably  one  across  which  he  had  stumbled 
in  the  City  that  morning,  had  quickened 
that  curiosity.  His  suspicions  of  the  pre- 
ceding autumn,  that  there  was  something 
behind  Julian's  life  as  it  appeared  on  the 
surface,  were  by  no  means  forgotten  by  him. 
His  departure  for  Africa  had  taken  him  out 
of  the  way  of  the  crisis,  but  he  more  than 
half  suspected  that  a  crisis  there  had  been. 
The  connection  between  the  present  and  the 
past,  and  the  means  by  which  it  could  be 
most  advantageously  applied  to  the  furtherance 
of  his  own  ends,  were  the  problems  he  had 
set  himself  to  solve. 

"We're  rather  in  luck!"  he  said.  **  We 
can  have  a  quiet  chat  together." 

He   established   himself    lazily   and   com- 


A  VALIANT  IGNOEANCE  247 

fortably  as  lie  spoke,  as  Julian  with  much 
apparent  satisfaction  flung  himself  into 
•another  chair,  and  took  out  his  cigar-case. 

Julian's  questions  followed  one  another 
thick  and  fast.  His  interest  in  his  friend's 
life  during  the  last  six  months  seemed  to  be 
inexhaustible  in  its  intelligence  and  sympathy. 
He  had  a  great  deal  to  tell,  too ;  and  he 
told  it  so  fluently  and  gaily  as  almost  to 
disguise  the  fact  that  the  allusions  to  his 
own  doings  were  of  the  most  superficial 
type.  But  at  last  there  was  a  pause.  Julian 
was  pulling  out  his  watch,  and  saying  some- 
thing about  going  home,  when  Loring  lighffed 
a  fresh  cigar  and  opened  the  proceedings — 
^s  he  conceived  them. 

''  I  heard  of  you  in  the  City  this 
morning ! "  he  said  nonchalantly. 

There  was  no  pause  in  the  movement 
with  which  Julian  returned  his  watch  to 
his  pocket ;  nothing,  absolutely,  to  betray 
the  fact  that  the  words  were  a  surprise 
to  him.  Yet  they  were  a  surprise,  and  an 
•exceedingly  unpleasant  one.  His  transactions 
in  the  City  he  had  arranged  to  keep  secret ; 
that  their  nature  should  become  known   was 


24S  A  VALIANT  IGNORANCE 

eminently  undesirable,  and  he  had  decided 
that  the  fact  itself  would  be  inconsistent 
^Yitll  his  pose  before  the  world.  That  Loring 
should  be  the  man  to  unearth  them  was 
excej)tionally  unfortunate. 

"Did  you?"  he  said  lightly;  "and  wdio 
was  saying  what  of  me  in  the  City — a  vague 
locality,  by-the-bye." 

"The  introduction  of  your  name  was  acci- 
dental —  accidents  will  happen,  you  kuow, 
even  in  Adams's  office.  Is  that  a  definite 
locality  enough  to  please  you  ?  " 

Julian  burst  into  a  boyish  laugh  and  flang 
himself  back  in  his  chair ;  he  carried  his  cigar 
to  his  lips  as  he  did  so,  not  noticing  apparently 
that  it  had  gone  out.  Loiing  noticed  it, 
however. 

"What  a  fellow  you  are,  Loring!"  he 
cried.  "  You've  not  been  in  England  three 
days  before  you  unearth  a  poor  chap's  most 
private  little  games !  I  say,  you'll  keep  it 
dark,  won't  you?  I  wouldn't  have  it  come 
round  to  my  mother,  you  know  !  She's  so 
awfully  generous  to  •  me,  and  it  might  hurt 
her  feelings." 

There    was    an    ingenuous    frankness    and 


A  YALIANT   IGNORANCE  249 

confidence  in  his  voice  which  gave  to  the 
whole  affair  the  aspect  of  a  youthful  escapade. 
Loring  smiled  as  he  answered  : 

''I  wouldn't  have  a  hand  in  hurting  Mrs. 
Romayne's  feelings  for  the  world."  He  paused 
a  moment,  and  then  added  carelessly,  as  if 
the  whole  transaction  was  the  merest  matter 
of  course  :  "  Been  doing  much  ?  " 

Julian  shook  his  head. 

"  No,  of  course  not,"  he  said  lightly. 
"  Only  a  little  occasional  lark,  don't  you 
know.  I  leave  the  big  things  to  clever 
fellows  like  you.  By-the-bye,  Loring,  I'd  no 
idea  you  did  anything  in  that  way." 

Loring  puffed  slowly  at  his  cigar  before 
he  answered. 

"  I'm  an  old  hand,"  he  said  nonchalantly. 
"  I  wait  for  certainties,  my  boy  !  "  He  paused 
again.  *' To  tell  you  the  truth,"  he  said 
slowly,  fastening  a  keen,  cleverly-veiled  gaze 
on  Julian's  face,  ''  I  did  not  ask  the  question 
altogether  idly.  It  occurred  to  me  that  if 
you  had  made  anything  w^orth  mentioning 
you  might  te  on  the  look-out  for  a  means 
of — well,  we'll  put  it  mildly  and  ^ay  —  in- 
creasing it." 


250  A  VALIANT  IGNORANCE 

There  was  considerable  meaniiw  in  Lorinw's 
voice,  careless  as  it  was.  Julian  became  very 
still,  and  into  liis  eyes  there  crept  an  eager, 
hungry  light  which  harmonised  ill  with  the 
fixed  nonchalance  of  the  rest  of  his  features 
as  he  answered  with  a  laugh  : 

"  I  don't  know  tlie  fellow  who  could 
refuse  to  admit  that  soft  impeachment ! 
We're  all  in  the  same  boat  as  far  as  that 
goes,  I  take  it.  You.  haven't  got  a  good 
thing  up  your  sleeve,  old  man,  have  you  ?  " 

Loring  smiled  ambiguously. 

"Most  'good  things'  would  come  to  an 
untimely  end  if  every  one  with  a  finger  in 
them  spread  them  abroad,  my  boy  ! "  he 
observed.  ''Since  it  can't  concern  you  per- 
sonally— if  you've  no  capital — we'll  say  no 
more  about  it." 

A  certain  amount  of  Loring's  practice  dealt 
with  financial  affairs ;  he  was  no  mean 
authority  on  City  matters,  and  there  was 
something  about  his  manner  indescribably 
provocative.  Julian  leaned  forward  with  a 
movement  of  irrepressible  eagerness. 

*'  Is  it  really  a  good  thing  ? "  he  said.  He 
spoke    with    a    quick,    low  -  toned    directness 


A  VALIANT  IGNOKANCE  251 

which  put  aside  the  fencing  of  the  previous 
dialogue,  and  replied  not  to  what.Loring  had 
said,  but  to  what  he  had  implied.  Loring 
looked  him  full  in  the  face  and  answered 
laconically  and  significantly  : 

''Eather!" 

The  hungry  light  was  burning  fiercely  in 
Julian's  eyes,  and  he  turned  his  face  away 
from  Lorino^  and  began  to  fido^et  with  an  ash- 

o  o  o 

tray  lying  on  the  table  by  him. 

*'  Capital  ?  "  he  said.  "  What  do  you  call 
•capital,  now  ? " 

''  Oh,  anything  between  ten  thousand 
and  five-and-twenty  thousand,"  said  Loring 
carelessly. 

There  was  a  silence.  Julian's  brain  was 
working  feverishly,  and  Loring  was  well 
content  to  let  it  work.  At  last  Julian  began 
to  speak  in  a  low,  rapid  tone,  with  the  air 
of  one  who  has  made  up  his  mind  to  frank 
confidence.  He  had  intended  to  keep  Loring 
^t  arm's  length  ;  he  had  decided  now  to  play 
a  bolder  game,  and  use  him. 

"Look  here,  Loring,"  he  said,  '*  I  may 
as  well  make  a  clean  breast  of  it  I  I  have 
gone    a   bit   farther   than    I    said.     You    see. 


25-2  A  VALIANT  IGNORANCE 

as  I  told  you,  my  motlier's  most  awfully 
generous,  and  I  wouldn't  let  a  hint  of  this 
got  to  her  for  the  world  ;  but  a  man  doesn't 
like  to  feel  that  he's  dependent  on  his  mother 
for  everything,  don't  you  know — especially  if 
he's  thinking  of  marrying.  You  know  what 
it  is  when  one  once  begins  to  feel  the  money 
come  in  !  I've  gone  on,  you  see — as  lots  of 
fellows  do — and  I've  got  a  tidy  little  pile. 
Of  course  I'm  very  keen  on  making  it  more 
before  —  well,  before  I  propose,  don't  you 
know !  And  if  you  can  give  me  a  lift  up  I 
shall  be  eternally  obliged." 

He  stopped,  and  Loring  smoked  for  a 
minute  or  two  in  silence.  At  last  he  said 
slowly :  ^ 

*'  I  understand !  It's  natural,  of  course. 
Well,  I  don't  stand  alone  in  the  affair,  to 
tell  you  the  truth.  There's  another  man  to 
be  consulted.  But  I'll  talk  the  matter  over 
with  him,  and  if  I  can  manage  to  get  you 
in  you  may  be  sure  I  will.  You  shall  have 
a  line  in  a  day  or  two,  or  I'll  see  you  again." 
Loring  dropped  the  end  of  his  cigar  into 
the  ash-tray  and  rose. 


CHAPTER  XIV 

The  clock  in  Mrs.  Romayne's  drawing-room 
chimed  the  half-hour — half-past  four — and 
Mrs.  Romayne  glanced  up  as  she  heard  it. 
She  was  alone,  sitting  at  her  writing-table 
answering  invitations.  She  was  looking 
better  than  she  had  looked  on  the  precedin*g 
day — less  haggard,  and  physically  strouger, 

^  She  answered  and  put  aside  the  last 
invitation-card,  and  then  she  drew  out  a  letter 
in  a  straio-ht,  clear,  orirrs  writino^.  It  was 
signed  :  "  Affectionately  yours,  Maud  Pon:ie- 
roy,"  and  it  bore  reference  to  Miss  Pomeroy's 
prospective  visit  to  her.  Mrs.  Romayne  glanced 
through  it,  the  vigour  of  her  face  seeming  to 
accentuate  as  she  did  so,  and  then  proceeded 
to  write  a  few  cordial,  affectionate  lines  in 
answer.  She  was  just  directing  the  envelope 
when  a  servant  came  in  with  tea. 


254  A  VALIANT   IGXOllANCE 

Mrs.  Romayne  rose. 

**  Send  these  letters  to  the  post,"  she  said. 

She  glanced  at  the  clock  again  as  she 
spoke,  and  at  that  moment  the  front-door  bell 
rauo^. 

Left  alone,  Mrs.  Romayne  moved  quickly 
to  the  looking-glass,  and  took  an  auxious, 
critical  look  at  herself;  it  was  as  though 
she  had  learnt  to  distrust  her  appearance. 
The  inspection,  however,  proved  satisfactory,, 
apparently ;  and  as  she  turned  quickly 
away  as  she  heard  steps  upon  the  stairs, 
there  was  a  self-dependence  and  sense  of 
power  in  the  bright,  expectant  keenness  of 
her  eyes. 

**  Mr.  Loring ! "  announced  the  servant, 
and  Mr.  Loring  followed  his  name  into  the 
room. 

"  I  am  very  glad  to  see  you,"  said  Mrs. 
Romayne,  advancing  to  meet  him.  "  This  is 
a  much  better  way  of  welcoming  a  friend 
than  our  meeting  yesterday.  I  think  I  shall 
celebrate  the  occasion  by  saying  not  at  home 
to  any  one  else.  Julian  will  be  iu,  perhaps, 
and  he  will  like  to  have  you  to  himself.  Not 
at  home,  Dawson,"  she  added  in  conclusion. 


A  YALIA.NT  laNORANCE 


'.bb 


There  was  a  verve  and  brightness  about 
her  manner  which  was  not  exactly  its  usual 
vivacity,  and  which  faintly  suggested  the 
presence  of  some  kind  of  special  excitement 
in  her  mind. 

Loring's  perceptions  were  in  a  state  of 
rather  abnormal  acuteness ;  the  situation  had 
meanings  for  him,  which  had  braced  up  his 
forces  not  inconsiderably.  He  detected  that 
inward  excitement  about  Mrs.  Romayne  in- 
stantly, and  he  was  convinced  also,  thouo-h 
he  could  hardly  have  given  a  reason  for  the 
conviction,  that  there  was  not  the  smallest 
chance  of  Julian's  appearance.  Both  circum- 
stances he  reckoned  as  points  in  his  favour 
in  the  game  he  was  going  to  play. 

"  It's  very  charming  of  you,"  he  said. 
"Do  you  know  this  is  the  first  time  I  have 
really  felt  that  coming  back  to  London  means 
— something." 

He  took  the  chair  she  had  indicated  to 
him  on  the  other  side  of  the  little  tea-table 
as  he  spoke,  and  there  was  nothing  lame  or 
unfinished  about  the  words  spoken  as  he 
spoke  them.  His  eyes  were  fixed  upon  Mrs. 
Romayne,  but  she  was  pouring  out  tea  with 


256  A  VALIANT  IGNORANCE 

SO  iutent  a  look  on  lier  face  as  almost  to 
suggest  preoccupation.  She  did  not  look  up, 
nor  did  the  tone  of  his  voice  reach  her,  except 
superficially,  apparently,  for  she  replied  with 
a  pleasant,  friendly  laugh. 

"  I  should  hope  it  did  mean  '  something,' 
indeed,"  she  said.  "Friends  should  count 
for  *  something,'  surely,  especially  when  they 
have  really  taken  the  trouble  to  miss  you 
very  much.  Have  you  had  such  an  unusually 
fascinating  time  in  Africa,  then  ? " 

She  handed  him  a  cap  of  tea,  and  as  he 
rose  to  take  it  from  her,  he  answered  : 

"  Well,  not  exactly  that.  I'm  afraid  I 
don't  believe  in  fascinating  times,  you  know. 
Perhaps  I  am  too  much  of  a  pessimist." 

He  spoke  with  that  tone  of  personal 
revelation  and  confidence  which  is  always 
more  or  less  attractive  to  a  woman,  coming 
from  a  man  ;  and  Mrs.  Eomayne  responded 
with  the  gentle  loftiness  of  sympathy  which 
the  position  demanded. 

"  I've  often  been  afraid  you  felt  like  that," 
she  said.  "  And  it  is  really  quite  wrong  of 
you,  don't  you  know.  You  ought  to  be  such 
a  particularly  well-satisfied  person  !    I  suppose 


A  VALIANT  IGNORANCE  267 

you  are  horribly  ambitious  ?  Now,  tell  me, 
has  your  business  gone  off  as  well  as  you 
hoped  ?  I  have  been  so  interested  in  your 
delightful  articles  ! " 

"  Does  anything  go  off  as  well  as  one 
had  hoped  ? "  was  the  reply,  spoken  with  a 
cynical  smile,  indeed,  but  with  a  certain 
daring  deprecation  of  her  disapproval,  which 
was  not  unattractive.  **No,  I  ought  not  to 
carp,"  he  continued  quickly.  "  I  have  every 
reason  to  be  satisfied." 

His  tone  implied  considerably  more  in 
the  way  of  success  and  latent  possibilities 
about  his  present  position  than  the  words 
themselves  conveyed ;  and  Mrs.  Eomayne 
answered  with  cordial,  delicately-expressed 
congratulations,  which  drifted  into  a  species 
of  general  questionings  as  to  his  doings,  less 
directly  personal,  but  implying  that  he  might 
count  on  her  sympathy  if  he  chose  to  confide 
in  her  in  greater  detail.  This  was  no  part 
of  Loring's  plan,  however.  He  led  by  almost 
imperceptible  degrees  away  from  the  subject, 
and  before  very  long  they  were  talking 
London  gossip  as  though  he  had  never  been 
away,  the  only  perceptible  result  of  his  absence 

VOL.  II  S 


258  A  VALIANT  IGNORANCE 

evincing'  itself  ia  the  touch  of  additional  in- 
timacy  which  his  return  seemed  to  have  given 
their  relations,  necessarily  at  Mrs.  Eomayne's 
instigation. 

The  talk  touched  here  and  there,  and 
by-and-by  an  enquiry  from  Loring  after  a 
mutual  friend  elicited  a  crisper  laugh  than 
usual,  and  an  expressive  movement  of  the 
eyebrows,  from  Mrs.  Romayne. 

"  Haven't  you  heard  ?  "  she  said.  "  Oh, 
it's  an  old  story  now,  of  course !  Well,  they 
don't  come  to  town  this  season,  I  believe. 
Lady  Ashton  suffers  from — neuralgia  !  " 

She  laughed  again,  and  then  in  response 
to  a  cynical  and  incredulously  interrogative 
ejaculation  from  Loring,  she  clasped  her  hands 
lightly  on  her  knee  and  went  on  with  the 
animation  of  a  woman  who  has  a  good  story 
to  tell  and  enjoys  telling  it. 

"  She  contracted  the  complaint,  they  say, 
in  a  poky  little  church  in  Kensington  into 
which  Gladys  Ashton  strolled  one  morning 
and  got  herself  married.  Oh,  dear  no !  Her 
mother  wasn't  there  !  That's  one  of  the  points 
of  the  affair.  And  Lord  Rochdale  wasn't 
there  either." 


A  VALIANT  IGNORANCE  259 

'^  Gladys  Ashton  jilted  Rochdale  after 
all !  " 

''  After  all ! "  assented  Mrs.  Romayne 
gaily.  "  After  all  that  poor  woman's  trouble, 
after  the  quite  pathetic  way  in  which  she 
has  slaved  to  catch  him,  she  gets  a  letter 
from  the  ungrateful  girl — at  an  afternoon  tea, 
too,  heaps  of  people  there — to  say  that  she  is 
Mrs.  Bob  Stewart.  Baccarat  Bob  you  wretched 
men  at  the  clubs  call  him,  don't  you  ? " 

"  That  was  enough  to  induce  convulsions, 
let  alone  neuralgia,"  commented  Loring. 

They  both  laughed,  and  the  laugh  vas 
succeeded  by  a  moment's  silence.  Then 
Loring  said  casually  : 

"  What  has  become  of  your  cousin.  Fal- 
coner, among  other  people,  by-the-bye  ?  I 
don't  hear  anything  of  him,  and  his  grim 
presence  was  hardly  to  be  overlooked.  Have 
you  any  little  escapade  of  his  to  reveal, 
now  ? " 

Mrs.  Romayne  laughed  a  little  harshly. 

"Unfortunately  not,"  she  said.  "His 
absence  is  due  to  the  most  characteristically 
orthodox  causes.  He  was  ill  about  three 
months  ago.     He  went  into  a   hospital  sort 

s  2 


260  A  VALIANT   IGNORANCE 

of  place — one  of  those  new  things — and  he 
was  rather  bad.  Now  he's  somewhere  or 
other  recovering.  I  fancy  he  won't  be  in 
London  again  yet." 

Loring  received  the  news  with  a  comment 
as  indifferent  as  his  question  had  been,  and 
then  there  fell  a  second  silence.  Loriog's 
eyes,  very  keen  and  calculating,  were  fixed 
upon  the  carpet ;  on  Mrs.  Romayne's  face 
was  an  accentuation  of  the  intent,  preoccupied 
look  which  had  lain  behind  all  her  previous 
gaiety.  The  two  faces  suggested  curiously 
that  the  man  and  woman  alike  felt  individually 
and  each  irrespective  of  the  other  that  some- 
thing in  the  shape  of  a  prologue  was  over, 
and  that  the  real  interest  of  the  interview 
might  begin. 

The  silence  was  broken  by  Mrs.  Romayne ; 
she  pushed  the  tea-table  further  from  her 
and  leaned  back  in  her  chair,  as  she  said 
casually : 

'^  Did  you  and  Julian  meet  at  the  club 
last  night?" 

Loriog  followed  her  example  and  took  an 
easier  and  more  careless  pose. 

*'Yes!"   he   said.     '^  We   had    an   hour's 


A  VALIANT   IGNORANCE  261 

talk  together.  I  was  very  glad  I  had 
looked  in.  I  hardly  expected  to  find  him 
there ! " 

Mrs.  Komayne  laughed,  and  the  sound 
was  rather  forced.  **  Oh,"  she  said  lightly, 
''he  is  a  tremendous  clubbist !  All  young 
men  go  through  the  phase,  don't  you  think  ? " 
She  paused  a  moment,  and  her  voice  sounded 
as  thousjh  her  breath  was  cominor  rather 
quickly  as  she  said  carelessly  : 

"You  find  him  a  good  deal  altered,  I 
dare  say  ?  Six  months  " — she  paused  ;  her 
breath  was  troublesome — ''six  months  makes 
such  a  difi'erence  at  his  time  of  life ! "  she 
finished. 

Lorinoj  looked  at  her.  He  had  lono^  ago 
decided  that  when  a  woman  was  "  made  up  " 
it  was  of  very  little  use  to  direct  observation 
to  anything  but  her  eyes. 

"  Yes ! "  he  said  reflectively,  as  though 
debating  a  question  already  existing  in  his 
mind,  and  answering  it  for  the  first  time. 
"  He  is  altered !  I  suppose — yes,  I  suppose 
six  months  must  make  a  difi'erence  ! " 

A  sharp  breath  as  at  a  sudden  stab  of 
pain  had  parted  Mrs.   Romayne's  lips  at  his 


262  A  VALIANT  IGNORANCE 

first  words,  and  he  saw  a  hard,  defiant  bright- 
ness come  into  her  eyes. 

*'I  was  very  glad  to  see — well,  may  one 
allude  to  what  one  could  not  help  seeing 
yesterday  ?  "  he  went  on  in  another  and  much 
lighter  tone. 

''  One  may  allude  to  it  confidentially ! " 
returned  Mrs.  Komayne,  and  her  tone  was 
rather  high-pitched  and  uneven.  "  Not  other- 
wise, I  am  sorry  to  say — at  present !  Did 
Julian  say  anything  about  it?"  Her  tone  as 
she  asked  the  question  was  carelessness  itself, 
but  her  fingers  were  tightly  clenched  round 
her  handkerchief  as  she  waited  for  the 
answer. 

"A  word  or  two  !  "  returned  Lorinsr.  '*I 
inferred  that  it  was  only  a  question  of  time. 
Has  it  been  going  on  long  ?  " 

"  All  the  winter ! "  she  answered,  and 
again  there  was  that  little  forced  laugh. 
"  You  see,  unfortunately,  '  she '  has  been 
away  !  I  had  hoped  that  it  would  have 
come  off  before  she  went  away,  but  it 
didn't ! " 

She  stopped  rather  abruptly  ;  and  Loring, 
watching  her  keenly,  said  : 


A  VALIANT  IGNOKANCE  263 

**  You  think  it  is  time  he  should  marry  ?  " 

"  I  think  —  well,  yes,  I  suppose  I  do  ! 
Don't  you  agree  with  me  ?  You  young 
men  are  so  apt  to  get  into  mischief,  you 
know  ! " 

'*  I  suppose  I  can  hardly  deny  the  general 
principle,"  answered  Loriug  with  a  slight 
smile,  ''though  it  is  some  time  since  I  have 
been  a  young  man  in  any  practical  sense ! 
But  as  to  Julian,  I  hardly  know " 

"  But  you  must  know !  "  returned  Mrs. 
Eomayne  quickly,  and  with  an  affected  laugh. 
"And  you  must  know,  in  the  first  place, 
that  I'm  relying  on  you  for  a  good  deal  of 
co-operation  —  oh,  of  course,  not  in  these 
delicate  affairs ! " 

A  certain  shade  of  attention — just  that 
attention  which  might  become  gravely  or 
gaily  sympathetic  according  to  the  demand 
made  upon  him — appeared  in  Loring's  manner. 
He  replied  to  her  last  words  with  a  gesture 
of  mock  deprecation  which  answered  the  tone 
in  which  they  were  spoken ;  but  a  quiet, 
reliable  interest  touched  his  voice  as  he  spoke, 
which  seemed  to  respond  rather  to  the  pos- 
sibilities of  the  situation. 


264  A  VALIANT   IGNORANCE 

*'  You  have  only  to  command  me  I "  he 
said. 

There  was  a  hungry  intentness  about  Mrs. 
Komayne's  mouth  now,  and  about  her  clenched 
hand,  which  only  a  tremendous  effort  and  the 
sacrifice  of  all  reality  of  tone  could  have  kept 
out  of  her  voice. 

"  To  tell  you  the  truth,"  she  said  lightly, 
"  there  was  rather  a  catastrophe  in  the 
autumn ;  a  girl,  you  know,  silly  boy — the 
usual  thing  !  I  fancy  it  has  upset  him  a  good 
deal  in  every  way,  and  there  is  nothing  like 
marriage  for  settling  a  young  man  down  after 
such  an  affair  ! " 

She  paused  as  though — while  her  confidence 
in  her  statement,  and  the  point  of  view  from 
which  she  had  presented  the  matter  stood  in 
no  need  of  confirmation — she  yet  craved  to 
hear  it  subscribed  to  by  another  voice.  And 
Loring  nodded  with  grave,  attentive  assent. 

*'  Quite  so !  "  he  said  sententiously. 

"Now,  of  course,"  she  continued,  "of 
course  a  woman  can't  know  all  the  ins  and 
outs  of  a  young  man's  life,  even  when  she's 
his  mother.  It's  out  of  the  question ;  and 
to  be  very  frank  with  you  " — there  was  some- 


A  A^ALIANT   IGNORANCE  265 

thing  painful  now  about  the  lightness  of  her 
tone — ''his  mother  had  fco  be  rather  autocratic, 
and  the  boy  didn't  much  like  it.  Consequently 
I  can't  feel  sure  that — well,  that  she  knows 
even  as  much  as  she  might  about  his  affairs, 
now !  That's  why  I'm  confiding  in  you  in 
this  expansive  way  !  I  want  you  to  look  after 
him  for  me  !  " 

Loring  changed  his  position,  and  nodded 
again  gravely  and  comprehendingly. 

*'  I  understand  ! "  he  said  slowly.  ''  I 
understand  1  "  The  statement  was  true  in 
far  wider  sense  than  Mrs.  Eomayne  could  Joe 
aware  of.  There  was  a  moment's  silence, 
during  which  he  seemed  to  deliberate  deeply 
on  the  facts  presented  to  him,  watched  intently 
by  Mrs.  Romayne ;  and  then  he  roused  himself, 
as  it  were.  *'  I  won't  say  that  your  confidence 
in  me  gives  me  great  pleasure,"  he  said, 
*'  because  I  hope  you  know  that.  I  will 
simply  say  that  I  will  do  all  I  can  ! " 

The  words  were  admirably  spoken,  with 
a  gentleness  and  consideration  of  tone  and 
manner  which  were  all  the  more  striking  from 
their  contrast  with  his  usual  demeanour ;  and 
they  carried  an  impression   of  strength  and 


266  A  VALIANT  IGNORANCE 

sympathy  such  as  no  woman  could  have 
resisted.  A  strange  spasm  as  of  intense  relief 
passed  across  ]\Irs.  Komayne  s  face,  and  for  the 
moment  she  did  not  speak.  Then  she  said 
low  and  hurriedly  : 

"  I  have  heard  that  he  plays,  and  it 
— it  worries  me !  A  boy  will  often  listen  to 
a  friend  whom  he  respects,  and — and — I  rely 
on  you." 

*'  I  consider  myself  honoured  !  " 

A  pause  followed,  and  then  Loriog  con- 
tinued with  an  easy  seriousness  which  was 
very  reassuring : 

"  I  am  very  glad  to  know  all  this,  for  it 
gives  me  a  key,  without  which  I  might  have 
blundered  considerably  !  To  return  confidence 
for  confidence,  and  to  assure  you  that  I  really 
have  some  power  to  help  you,  I  will  say  that 
I  made  a  little  discovery  about  Julian  yesterday 
which  perplexed  me  a  good  deal.  I  shall  know 
now  how  to  act.     If  he  must  speculate " 

He  was  interrupted.  The  daintily  coloured 
face  before  him  changed  suddenly  and  terribly  ; 
a  ghastly  reality  that  lay  behind  that  expres- 
sion of  carelessness  seemed  on  the  instant  to 
crash  through  all  veils  and   masks   as   Mrs. 


A  VALIANT  IGNORANCE  267 

Komayne  rose  to  her  feet  with  a  hoarse  cry, 
her  face  drawn  and  working,  her  hands 
stretched  out  as  though  to  ward  off  something 
unendurably  horrible. 

"  No  ! "  she  gasped,  and  she  was  absolutely 
fighting  and  struggling  for  breath,  as  though 
something  clutched  at  her  throat.  "  Not 
that !  oh,  good  heavens,  not  that !  You  must 
stop  it !  You  must  prevent  it.  He  must 
not !  He  must  not !  Do  you  hear  me  ?  He 
must  not ! " 

There  are  some  natures  which  not  even 
contact  with  throbbing,  vibrating  reality  can 
touch  or  thrill,  and  Loring,  surprised,  indeed, 
had  risen  also,  cynical,  imperturbable,  and 
cool-headed  as  usual. 

**By  Jove  !  "  he  said  to  himself  critically. 
*'Who  would  have  thought  she  had  it  in 
her  ? "  The  choked,  agonised  voice  stopped 
abruptly,  and  he  met  her  eyes,  wild  and 
fierce  in  their  desperate  command,  and  said 
quickly  and  soothingly  : 

"  I  will  do  anything  you  wish,  I  assure 
you  !  You  have  only  to  speak  !  I  am  grieved 
beyond  all  words  to  have  distressed  you  so  ! 
I  had  no  idea " 


268  A  VALIANT  IGNORANCE 

A  hoarse  laugh  broke  from  Mrs.  Eomayne, 
and  she  turned  away  with  a  strange  gesture 
almost  as  though  it  were  herself  she  derided, 
and  Loring  was  forgotten  by  her,  clasping 
her  hands  fiercely  over  her  face.  Loring 
paused  a  moment  and  then  went  on  smoothly: 

**  There  is  nothing  to  disturb  you,  I  assure 
you,  in  what  I  was  going  to  say.  Most  young 
men  have  a  turn  for  dabbling  in  speculation 
at  some  time  or  other,  and  though  I  know 
some  ladies  have  a  horror  of  it,  I  don't  think 
you  would  find  that  there  is  much  foundation 
for  that  horror."  He  stopped  somewhat 
abruptly.  He  had  suddenly  remembered  that 
he  was  speaking  to  the  widow  of  William 
Eomayne,  of  whose  final  collapse  he  knew 
the  outline.  He  looked  at  the  woman  before 
him  with  her  hidden  face,  her  figure  rigid  and 
tense  from  head  to  foot,  and  thought  to  him- 
self callously  how  curious  these  survivals  of 
emotion  were.  She  did  not  move  or  speak, 
and  he  went  on  with  a  tone  of  delicate 
sympathy  : 

"No  doubt,  if  you  really  think  it  well  to 
stop  it  with  a  high  hand,  it  can  be  done !  I 
ought    to    say   that    I    have   rather   broken 


A  VALIANT  IGNOEANCE  269 

confidence  in  revealing  Julian's  doings,  as 
he  is  very  anxious  that  you  should  not  think 
him  dissatisfied  or  ungrateful,  and  did  not 
wish  you  to  hear  of  them."  A  shiver  shook 
the  bowed  figure  from  head  to  foot.  '*  I'm 
afraid  I  thought  more  of  reassuring  you  than 
of  him  !  I  thought  that  if  you  knew  that 
he  and  I  were  in  the  same  affair,  and  that 
he  would  act  solely  on  my  advice,  you  would, 
perhaps,  feel  happier  about  him  ! " 

But  the  answer  he  wanted,  the  answer 
which  would  have  enabled  him  to  continue 
his  reassurances  on  the  purely  personal  Hec, 
was  not  forthcoming.  Mrs.  Komayne  neither 
spoke  nor  moved.  He  had  no  intention  of 
risking  his  position  by  foolhardiness,  so  he 
adjusted  his  line  of  argument  to  the  darkness 
in  which  her  silence  left  him. 

"  As  I  said,  however,"  he  continued  gently, 
*^if  you  prefer  to  talk  to  him  on  the  subject, 
and  ask  him  to  give  it  up,  no  doubt  he  will 
do  so  rather  than  distress  you  !  And  if  you 
lay  your  commands  on  me  to  that  effect,  I 
will  certainly  refuse  to  go  any  further  with 
him !  But  may  I  say  that  I  think  you  would 
be  wiser  to  let  things  take  their  course  ?     It 


270  A  VALIANT   IGNORANCE 

is  not  a  good  thing  to  thwart  .a  young  man  in 
the  frame  of  mind  you  have  hinted  at  as  being 
Julian's  at  present.  If  you  can  conquer  your 
horror  of  the  idea,  I  am  sure  you  will  be 
better  satisfied  in  the  end  !  " 

There  was  a  dead  silence.  At  last  Mrs. 
Eomayne  raised  her  head  slowly,  not  turning 
her  face  towards  Loring,  but  looking  straight 
before  her,  as  though  utterly  oblivious  of  his 
personal  presence.  There  was  a  strange, 
fleeting  dignity  about  her  drawn  face,  with 
its  wide,  ghastly  eyes ;  the  dignity  which 
comes  from  horror  confronted. 

"  Take  their  course  ! "  she  said  in  a  still, 
far-away  voice.  She  paused  a  moment,  and 
then  went  on  in  the  same  tone.  "  You  think 
this  is — inevitable  ? "  The  last  word  came 
with  a  strange  ring. 

"  I  think  that  any  attempt  at  its  pre- 
vention would  be  most  undesirable,"  said 
Lorinor.  "  It  mio^ht  lead — of  course,  it  is  not 
very  likely,  but  still  it  is  possible — to  private 
speculations  on  Master  Julian's  part !  " 

*'  Very  well,  then  !  "  There  was  a  curious, 
hard  steadiness  in  her  tone,  as  of  one  who 
perforce   concedes   a   point   to  an   adversary. 


A  VALIANT  IGNORANCE  271 

and  braces  every  nerve  afresh  to  face  the 
new  situation  thus  created. 

'*  That  is  like  you  ! "  exclaimed  Loring 
admiringly.  The  tone  of  her  voice  had  passed 
him  by.  ''  You  will  be  glad,  I  know  !  Now, 
let  me  say  again  how  awfully  sorry  I  am  to 
have  distressed  you,  and  then  I'll  go.  You'll 
be  glad  to  get  rid  of  me  !  " 

She  did  not  seem  to  hear  the  words,  but 
as  his  voice  ceased,  she  turned  her  face  slowly 
towards  him  with  a  vague,  uncertain  look 
upon  it,  as  though  her  consciousness  was 
struggling  back  to  him,  and  the  life  he  rej^re- 
sented,  across  a  great  gulf.  She  looked  at 
him  a  moment,  and  then  that  dignity,  and  a 
strange  pathos  which  that  groping  look  had 
possessed,  gave  way  before  a  ghastly  smile. 

"  I'm  afraid  I've  been  making  myself  most 
ridiculous  ! "  she  said,  and  there  was  a  difficult, 
uncertain  sprightliness  about  her  weak  voice. 
"  So  awfully  sorry  !  I'm  rather  absurd  about 
speculation.  Old  memories  with  which  I 
needn't  bore  you  !  You'll  look  after  my  boy, 
then  ?  Thanks  ! "  She  held  out  her  hand  as 
she  spoke  with  a  little  atfected  gesture,  but 
as  he  placed  his  hand  in  it  her  fingers  closed 


272  A  VALIANT  IGNORANCE 

with  an  icy  clutch.  **  And  now,  do  you 
know,  I  must  send  you  away  !  Too  bad, 
isn't  it  ?  Bat  there  is  such  a  thing  as  dressing 
for  dinner." 

"  Quite  so,"  returned  Loring  gaily.  "  It 
is  very  good  of  you  to  have  been  bothered 
with  me  so  long !     Good-bye  ! " 

"  Good-bye  !  "  she  answered.  ''  You'll  re- 
port progress,  of  course  ?  " 

*'  Certainly  !  We're  a  pair  of  conspirators, 
are  we  not  ?  " 

When  Mrs.  Eomayne  came  down  to  dinner 
that  night  her  face  was  as  haggard  as  though 
the  interval  intervening  had  held  for  her 
another  three  days'  illness.  But  the  hard 
determination  in  her  eyes  was  more  intense 
than  ever. 


END    OP   VOL.  II 


F.    SI.    liVANS  AND    CO.,    LIMITBD,   PBIXIEBS,    CEXSTAL   PALACE,    S.B. 


